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■s-Villanova-Solaro-s- 


A STORY OF THE VAUDOIS. 



HY 


MISS L. BATES. 





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PHILADELPHIA: 

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ViLLANOVA-SOLARO. 


A STORY OF THE VAUDOIS. 


BY jL 

MISS I/^ATES. 



PHILADELPHIA. : 

AMERICAN BAPTIST PUBLICATION SOCIETY, 
1420 Chestnut Street. 



\ 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1884, by the 
AMERICAN BAPTIST PUBLICATION SOCIETY, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE. 


INTRODUCTION. 

The Vaudois 7 

CHAPTER I. 

The Seigneurs op Solaro 18 

CHAPTER 11. 

At the Castle 31 

CHAPTER III. 

SciPio Lentulus, the Pastor 41 

CHAPTER IV. 

Count Solaro’ s Return 47 

CHAPTER V. 

The Marquisate op Saluzzo 55 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Approaching Nuptials 66 

CHAPTER VII. 

The Massacre op the Huguenots 74 


3 


4 


CONTENTS. 


PAOE. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Solaro Family Driven from Saluzzo . . 84 

CHAPTER IX. 

The Solemn Covenant 94 

CHAPTER X. 

On the Heights 105 

CHAPTER XL 

New Friends on the Mountain 119 

CHAPTER XII. 

The Huntsman Takes His Departure 130 

CHAPTER XIIL 

Arnaud Heard From 139 

CHAPTER XIY. 

Wood Carving 148 

CHAPTER XV. 

The Vaudois Depend Themselves 159 

CHAPTER XVL 

Countess Solaro and Her Family Make a 
Second Attempt to Reach Lucerna 166 

CHAPTER XVII. 

The Eagle’s Nest 179 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Arnaud’ s Last Journey ... Igg 



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CONTENTS. 


5 


CHAPTER XIX.* 

The Journey to Turin Decided Upon 198 

CHAPTER XX. 

Burial by Torch-light 209 

CHAPTER XXI. 

The First Stage in the Journey 217 

CHAPTER XXIL 

The Deserted Village 226 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Pius IV. Sends a Legate to the Valleys 236 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

The Capture and the Escape 247 

CHAPTER XXV. 

The Duchess of Savoy 253 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

On Their Way from Turin 263 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

The Head Forester 269 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

The Reading of an Old Compact 278 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

The Old Story Repeated 285 


6 


CX)K TENTS. 


PAGE. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

Peter Revel’s Charge 292 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

The Young Wood Inspectors 298 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

Brave Defence op the Pass 306 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


INTRODUCTION. 

THE VAUDOIS. 

rriHE great events of the Reformation, the report 
of which was fraught with such dismal con- 
sequences in Calabria and in Provence, could not 
remain without influences in the Vaudois valleys, 
from which the evangelical churches of these coun-. 
tries had originated in former times. 

The first Christian Churches founded by the 
apostles were religious societies, united to one 
another by the bonds of faith and charity; but 
independent in their organization. Hence the par- 
ticular churches could remain long united to the 
universal church, without renouncing that liberty 
of conscience which belonged to them in their in- 
dividual capacity. The Vaudois Church is an 
instance in point; and the long strife which the 
Papal Church had to maintain, in order to reduce 
the greater part of other churches under its au- 


8 


VILLANO VA-SOLA RO. 


thority, affords a more general, but a certain, proof 
that they were not from the first subject to it. The 
word church then signified no more than a simple 
assembly, and the distinctive characteristic of the 
Christian assemblies was, that they were churches 
of brethren. 

Roman Catholicism changed the meaning of 
these words ; it desired to have dominion over the 
world, and availed itself for this purpose of the 
elements of that Paganism which had recently been 
supreme. The invasion of the barbarians had just 
overthrown the Roman Empire, and Romanism was 
nothing else than the result of a hideous combina- 
tion of corrupt Paganism, with the savage bar- 
barism that destroyed the ancient civilization. 
Then was this church seen to grow up to all the 
height of that edifice of past times which had been 
cast down ; and, like a building spared in a great 
inundation, stood alone for centuries within a level, 
but darkened, horizon, amid the ruins of the 
ancient world, gradually disappearing or under- 
going change. 

Its pride increasing with its strength, the 
Papacy now aimed at subjugating the temporal 
powers to the spiritual power, of which it arrogated 
the name to itself; and thus did it unconsciously 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


9 


proclaim the superiority of mind over matter : 
even while it had, so to speak, wedded itself to 
matter in its wholly material worship. The human 
mind awoke, and protested against a worship so un- 
worthy of itself; the dawn of restored letters cast 
its first rays upon the Bible, which also gave forth 
its protest ; all generous hearts gathered around 
it with the ardor of life, to destroy in its name the 
carnal forms of a monument of death ; and as two 
chords in unison vibrate in response to one another, 
notwithstanding the distance which separates them, 
the sensation at once produced in the Vaudois 
Church by the Keformation gives evidence of 
the secret harmony which existed between them, 
and which alone could account for the feeling of 
mutual affection with which the hearts, both of the 
Vaudois and of the Keformers, were suddenly 
moved. 

The Vaudois hastened to send to the Keformers 
two of their Barbas, George Morel and Peter 
Masson, the latter asking questions and receiving 
evangelical replies which filled them with joy. As 
they returned, they passed through Dijon on their 
way to Dauphiny. Their pious conversation re- 
vealed them to be Vaudois. This was a crime in 
that city, and they were punished for their temerity. 


10 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


France, however, preceded Germany and Swit- 
zerland in a reforming movement, which was evi- 
dently destined either to revive or destroy the Ko- 
man Catholic Church. Nowhere had the imperious 
ambition of Popery been more energetically re- 
pressed than by the French nation. The Bishop 
of Meaux, together with the learned and unpretend- 
ing instructions of a professor of the Sarbonne, had 
done much in winning the members of the court 
and the royal family to espouse the cause of the 
Reformation. But in France, also, a reaction dis- 
played itself so much the more strongly, as the 
avowal of Bible doctrines had been made with 
greater reserve. 

The Vaudois delegates returning from Strasburg, 
were arrested at Dijon in 1580. The particulars 
of this event have not come down to us; but the 
issue was, that George Morel succeeded in making 
his escape, with the precious packet of letters and 
religious instruction, which he bore to his com- 
patriots; but, as if no other price than that of 
martyrdom would have been proportionate to their 
worth, the good Barba sealed them with his blood, 
dying with the calmness of a Christian who feels 
that he is redeemed. 

Several conferences were held, to discuss the ex- 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


11 


plauations given by the Reformers. Finally, in 
September, 1532, they gathered into an Assembly to 
which representatives of all the Vaudois parishes 
repaired ; not only from the valleys, but also from 
Calabria, Saluzzo, Provence, and Dauphiny. This 
solemn gathering was held in the open air at the 
hamlet of Chanforans, in presence of all the 
people. It met on one of those shady pieces of 
level ground situated half way up the mountains, 
shut in, like an arena for giants, by the distant 
slopes of the Pra-del Tor, then crowned with spark- 
ling snows. 

Already a rapid change of opinions and relations 
had taken place all around the Vaudois valleys 
The seigneurs of Miradol, Rivenoble, and Solaro, 
apjDeared at the council of faith and liberty. Farel 
came mounted on a white horse, with that noble 
demeanor which belongs to persons of royal birth. 
Saulnier accompanied him, and all thronged around 
the steps of these illustrious, but unassuming men, 
who came to seal the compact of brotherhood be- 
tween the successors of the primitive church and 
the promoters of a new era of evangelization. 

“ The Reformers,” says one who was present at 
the meeting, “were greatly rejoiced to see that 
people, who had ever proved faithful, that Israel 


12 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


of the Alps, to whose charge God had committed 
for so many centuries the ark of the new covenant, 
thus eager in his service. And examining with 
interest the manuscript copies of the Old and New 
Testaments, which were with us correctly copied 
with the hand at a date beyond all memory, they 
marveled at that favor of heaven which a people 
so small in numbers had enjoyed, and rendered 
thanks to God that the Bible had never been taken 
from them. Then, also, in their great desire that 
the reading of it might be made profitable to a 
greater number of persons, they adjured all the 
other brethren, for the glory of God and the good 
of Christians, to take measures for circulating it, 
showing how necessary it was that a general trans- 
lation should be made of it into French, carefully 
compared with the original texts, and of which 
large numbers should be printed.” All the 
Vaudois applauded the design, and, according to 
this author, joyfully agreed to the work proposed ; 
so that it is to the existence of these ancient 
Vaudois manuscripts, the first in which the Bible 
was ever presented in the vulgar tongue (being 
what was then called the Romance tongue), that the 
Christian world was indebted for the first complete 
translation of the Bible printed in French. 


V 


VILLA NO VA-SOLAEO. 


13 


They then proceeded to the discussion of ques- 
tions the most diverse ; articles of faith and usage 
that admitted of differences, and all in such a spirit 
of good will and brotherly kindness as to draw 
them still more closely to each other. Prayer at all 
times opened and closed these discussions. 

The Bible of which mention has been made was 
printed in Gothic characters, in two columns, with 
remarkable neatness, and cost the Vaudois one 
thousand five hundred golden crowns ; and it would 
be surprising that a people so few in number should 
be able to make such very considerable sacrifice, if 
we did not know that faith makes the greatest 
works possible, and that the feeblest can do all 
things when Christ strengthens them. 

This undertaking originated through the in- 
fluence of Farel, himself a Frenchman, and was 
also prosecuted with a special regard to the Ke- 
formed Church of France. The Vaudois who ad- 
dress that church as a sister, say to her in the 
preface, recalling the refuge which the former dis- 
ciples had sought among them : “ The poor people 
who make you this present were driven forth and 
banished from your company more than three cen- 
turies ago; they are the true people of patience, 
who, in faith, and hope, and charity, have silently 


14 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


vanquished all the assaults and efforts which their 
enemies have been able to make against them.” 

The churches of France replied by one of their 
synods: “They are the people of joyous affection 
and of constant courage; their name is the little 
flock; their kingdom is not of this world; their 
motto is piety and contentment ; they are a church 
which has endured conflicts and is embrowned and 
sun-scorched without, but fair and of goodly 
appearance within; whose footsteps the greater 
part amongst us have failed to follow ; for religious 
zeal exists only in the monuments of history, and 
in the ashes of our fathers, which are still warm 
with their ardor for the propagation of the gospel.” 

A year after the publication and distribution of 
this Bible, one of the Barbas, Martin Gonin, pastor 
of Angrogna, undertook to go in person to Geneva, 
in order to procure the religious publications neces- 
sary for his countrymen. Ten years before, Gonin 
had made an excursion among the Reformers, and 
had brought back a number of books. The worthy 
Barba left the valleys at the end of winter ; because 
the roads being then more difflcult and less fre- 
quented, were also less closely watched. Another 
Vaudois, John Girard, accompanied him to Geneva, 
where he intended to found a printing establish- 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


15 


mcnt, with the especial view of providing for the 
wants of his own countrymen. He did establish it, 
and it fell to his lot afterward to print the narrative 
of the first persecutions undertaken against the 
Vaudois in the sixteenth century. As for Barba 
Martin Gonin, after making choice of the books 
which he was commissioned to procure, he set out 
again for the Vaudois valleys. 

The Duke of Savoy w’as then at war with the 
King of France, who had just seized upon Bresse, 
Savoy, and great part of Piedmont. The Bernese 
took advantage of these circumstances to re-assert 
their claim to the right bank of the Leman, which 
the Duke of Savoy still possessed. They likewise 
seized upon the Pays de Vaud, and carried their 
invasions as far as Chablais and the Pays de Gex. 

To shun these scenes of conflict, Martin Gonin 
was obliged take a different road from that by 
which he had formerly traveled ; he went through 
France, and he traversed the Charnpsaur in order to 
reach the Gapen^ois, and thence to gain the Vaudois 
valleys of Dauphiny. He incurred the suspicion 
of being a spy of the Duke of Savoy, and was 
arrested. He was conducted to Grenoble, where he 
was examined by some members of the Parliament, 
and obliged to reply to their interrogatories ; but 


16 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


they, being persuaded of his innocence, commanded 
him to be set at liberty. The jailer, with the in- 
tention unquestionably of robbing his prisoner of 
any valuables which he might find about him, 
took upon himself to search him, under pretext of 
making him free of all possible suspicion. Having 
set about this odious proceeding, he thought that he 
discovered papers concealed under the lining of his 
dress. These were no other than the brotherly 
letters of Farel, Saulnier, and other ministers of 
Geneva, which these worthy servants of Christ had 
sent to their Christian brethren in the valleys, by 
the hand of their pastor. The jailer took possess- 
ion of these writings, and to justify himself to the 
judges, perhaps to gain credit for his bad action, 
he delivered them to the provost, who commanded 
him to convey Gonin back to prison. Two days 
after, the captive was summoned to a new exami- 
nation, as a person accused of Lutheranism. 

“ I am not a Lutheran” he said, when called upon 
to reply. “ Luther did not die for me, but Jesus 
Christ only, whose name I bear.” 

“ What is your doctrine ? ” was asked. 

“ That of the gospel.” 

“ Do you go to mass?” 

“ No.” 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


17 


“ Do you acknowledge the authority of the 
Pope?” 

« No” 

The judges were enraged at these calm replies. 
The Barba demanded to be allowed to prove all his 
beliefs from the Bible. 

“We will not listen to you,” answered the judges. 
And at once they proclaimed him a heretic, and con- 
demned him to death. 

Grenoble, however, was a city of more enlighten- 
ment than Dijon. The new light had penetrated it. 
The seigneurs of Bonne, Villars, Mailhet, and Bar- 
donneuche, with other families of high descent, had 
already in some measure imbibed those doctrine* 
which made them, in the contests that soon followed, 
strenuous defenders of the Reformation. It was 
feared that the evangelical language of the Vaudois 
Barba might excite too much sympathy, and thus it 
w’as decided that his execution should not be public. 
“ Otherwise,” they said, “ his engaging manner and 
his fair speech will be sure to create commotion.” 
Accordingly, it was resolved that he should be 
strangled at night, and his corpse should then be 
cast into the Seine. This was done, and the river 
bore away the body of the Vaudois martyr, while 

his soul winged its flight to meet its Lord. 

B 


CHAPTER I. 

THE SEIGNEURS OF SOLARO. 


T he ancient house at Caragli, that of Villanova- 
Solaro, was distinguished by attachment to 
the doctrines of the gospel; and it was under its 
protection that the church against which proceed- 
ings were now commenced had risen and been 
sheltered. The Duke of Savoy, Emmanuel Phili- 
bert, caused letters to be written to the heads of 
4his noble family, saying that, if they desired to 
retain the favor of their prince, they must cease to 
extend their support to a heresy already too widely 
spread. But the seigneurs of Solaro, while they 
protested their devotedness to their sovereign, de- 
manded the privilege of proving also their devoted- 
ness to their religion. A short time after this, a 
list of the reformed was demanded from the magis- 
trates. In this list was immediately included nearly 
nine hundred persons, although many were absent, 
and their names did not appear there. 

After this list was prepared, the Duke himself 

wrote to the Count of Solaro. He urged him, in 
18 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


19 


the strongest manner, to return within the pale of 
the Church of Rome, sternly declaring his resolu- 
tion not to suffer two religions in his dominions. 
But the Count respectfully replied that he would 
render to Cesar the things which were Cesar’s ; but 
to God the things which were God’s. 

A few days later the Duke sent a missionary to 
Caragli, commanding all the inhabitants of the town 
to attend his preaching. The majority of the 
reformed refused to go. When this was known, an 
officer of the Council of State apprised the syndics 
that they must get ready a special list of the most 
stubborn within the space of four days; and at the 
same time there arrived a proclamation by the 
Duke, in which he exhorted all the reformed of the 
town to change their doctrines, threatening them 
with his wrath if they persisted in their heresy. 
The greater part of these Christians now took to 
flight, which left a great blank, and spread desola- 
tion over the country. The Duke perceived that 
he had gone too far, or rather too fast; and he 
hastened to bring them back, by causing letters to 
be written, in which he urged them to return to 
their homes, promising that no step against them 
should be taken without due notice. Hardly were 
they again settled in their homes when an edict 


20 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


was published, by which all the Protestants of 
Carrgli who would not objure were ordered to leave 
the country within the space of six months. A 
year was allowed them to effect the sale of their 
property, by agents appointed for that purpose. 

The seigneurs of Solaro, who enjoyed a credit 
merited alike by their enlightenment, their illus- 
trious rank, and their virtues, repaired to the 
presence of their sovereign, by whom they had 
been previously summoned. As the families had 
previously been on terras of social intimacy, the 
Count, with a suitable retinue, set out; doubtless 
thinking that a personal interview would be all 
that was needful to settle a question that had to 
do alone with the heart and conscience of the 
individual. 

As the royal party clattered out of the castle- 
yard, Octavia, the youngest sister of the Count, 
leaned over the balcony and followed her brother 
with eyes wet with tears. As the park gates flew 
open he turned his courser and lifted his plumed 
helmet, then waved his hand in the direction of the 
castle and dashed away, followed by his men. 

“ May God go with him and be with him,” mur- 
mured Octavia, as she bowed her head. 

When she raised it again, her countenance be- 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


21 


trayed no emotion, — the God in whom she trusted 
had sent the Comforter. Taking a roll from the 
table, and flinging a light scarf over her head, 
Octavia left the balcony and, gliding down a spiral 
staircase that led to the garden, took her way 
along a shaded path to the little flower-gemmed 
arbor where she was accustomed to spend a quiet 
hour in reading from the evangelists. As she read, 
the beauty of the words inspired her with a new 
and deeper sense of their real meaning. The life 
of Christ upon earth, the majesty of his character, 
allied to the purity and goodness manifest upon 
every occasion; his compassion for the poor and 
distressed ; his willingness to relieve, and his power 
manifest in healing the sick and in raising the 
dead, — drew her with loving tenderness. Gradually 
her hand loosened its grasp ; the roll fell at her 
feet, while there passed in review before her the 
weary marches from village to village ; the people 
coming out, bringing the blind and the sick, to be 
healed by his touch. The poor widow of Nain 
who, tottering behind the bier on which her only 
son was lying cold and dead, was surprised by the 
prayer that summoned the spirit back, and gave 
her boy again to her arms. Then the agony of the 
garden, the cross, and the cruel death. “And this 


22 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


God is our God. We have his promise ; he will 
never leave us, nor forsake us.” The murmured 
words dispelled the vision. A sound of voices 
echoed along the garden paths. Her name was 
called. The hour she could call her own was 
passed. 

“Here you are! I might have known it,” ex- 
claimed a bright voice ; at the same time a young, 
slight girl with ruddy cheeks, large, dark, melting 
eyes, and numerous braids of purple black hair, 
stood in the door of the arbor. 

“ The Countess sent me to say, that Arnaud has 
a new hawk, and everything is arranged. It will 
brighten the day, she says.” 

“Must I go?” said Octavia, as if to herself; at 
the same time she picked up the roll, and then let 
it fall again. 

“ Not unless it is your pleasure, dear Octavia,” 
said the young girl, springing forward with the 
privilege of a friend. “What is it? What has 
happened?” was asked. 

“As long as I was reading I was comforted,” was 
the reply. “ Try as I will, I cannot but think that 
this visit to the Duke will result disastrously to the 
Vaudois. Did you ever think, Blanche, that it is 
possible for us to suffer for Christ’s sake?” 


VILLA NOVA-SOLARO. 


23 


“You do not take into consideration the Count's 
influence,” replied the young girl, “ when the 
Duke com® to know all ; and besides, the Duchess 
will never allow that harm should come to you; 
how often you have said to me that her kindness 
was like that of a dear, elder sister. And her faith 
is the same. Catherine of France is a Christian.” 

“I know, and I must not think of it. We are in 
God's hands. We have only to follow where he 
leads,” said Octavia, brightening. 

The young girls walked out of the arbor arm in 
arm. The tinkling of small bells mingled with the 
play of the fountain; golden lances shot through 
the wealth of green leaves and fell in dazzling 
radiance across the marble pavement. At this 
moment the Countess was coming down the broad, 
stone staircase, surrounded by her ladies. She wore 
a habit of green cloth with slashed sleeves, laced 
with silver cord, and a hat, the long white plume 
of which shaded her thoughtful face, and gave hei: 
the air of deep-seated pensiveness. 

There was much laughing and merriment. Then 
Valerio, a younger brother of the Count, came 
down the hall, followed by two lads in laced jackets 
and close caps. A page was standing with hood 
and jesses in his hand ; while another page was 


24 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


holding a pied hawk on his finger and flying him 
lightly for the amusement of a still younger son of 
the Count. 

“It has just come to me that this is a fete-day 
for children,” said one of the court ladies. 

“And for this reason Octavia will not join us,” 
observed another, with just the slightest shrug of 
her pretty shoulders. 

Blanche was walking a little aside with Valerio, 
and apparently oblivious of meaning glances and 
covert words; while Octavia stood chatting with 
the Countess and the boy Evrard, and occasionally 
passing her fingers over the glossy plumage of the 
bird. Presently a bugle call rung out clear and 
full, and Arnaud, the huntsman, dressed in green, 
with a white scarf crossing his breast and knotted 
under his left arm, cried out : 

“ To horse ! to horse ! ” 

Valerio gave his hand to the Countess, while the 
pages and gentlemen assisted the ladies. Blanche's 
sweet face was radiant. As she passed Octavia, she 
bent in the saddle and whispered : “ If Francis 
comes, explain to him” — while a crimson flush 
mounted to her temples. 

The scene was enlivening. The Countess rode a 
milk-white steed, which she managed adroitly ; and 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


25 


the whole party looked so bright and happy that 
instinctively Octavia hid her face in her hands, and 
sat there, the picture of bereavement. 

A company of white-armed girls were sitting at 
their tambour frames, laughing and chatting pleas- 
antly. As Octavia passed them on the way to her 
apartment, one of them dropped her needle and 
followed her. 

“ If I may trouble you, my lady,” she said, drop- 
ping her eyes timidly, “Nurse Flavel had a dream 
last night, and it troubles her. This morning she 
twice asked for you. ‘ If I could but hear my child 
sing, I might forget it,^ she said piteously.” 

“ I will go to her. It will do me good as well,” 
answered Octavia. “You were right to come, 
Erminia. When I can do any good in this way 
always let me know.” 

With a bow the girl slid back into her place, 
leaving Octavia to go at once to her room. 

Nurse Flavel occupied a small suite of rooms 
beyond the chapel. To reach it, one could go 
through the garden and by the wall, where grapes 
were hanging in purple clusters. Upon this occa- 
sion, however, Octavia chose to go through the 
chapel. A ray of golden light crossed the altar 
and fell in a perfect shower over the still open 


26 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


organ. The deep repose stilled the violent beating 
of her heart. She climbed up to the seat and 
played a favorite chant, composed and set to music 
by one of the ancient Barbas. It was a song 
of deliverance. It bore her up, as with wings. 
Another followed. She was near forgetting herself, 
when a child’s voice sounded near her, and a child’s 
hand touched her arm. 

“ I was afraid at first,” said the. child. “Are you 
to sing for Nurse Flavel to-day?” she asked. 

“If she would like to have me,” answered Oc- 
tavia, smiling into the dimpled face. 

“She always likes to have you. She would have 
come with me, but she’s lame,” was said naively. 

“And I am. not lame. Come, Vera, you must 
show me the way” — getting down from the organ 
bench and giving her hand to the child. 

Nurse Flavel had lived a worthy life, and now 
in her age she reminded Octavia of the sun going 
down in a sea of beauty. Her hair was silvery 
white, and her eyes had the light of immortality 
in their gray depths. 

“I am fortunate in being so near the chapel,” 
she said. “I heard you singing.” 

The child Vera went out to gather grapes, and 
when she was gone Nurse Flavel explained to 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 27 

Octavia her dream, and the effect it had upon 
her. 

‘‘We must not put any dependence upon a 
dream,” said Octavia, taking one of the thin hands 
in her own. “We have the promise of our Lord, 
that he will give us strength according to our need. 
You remember it says: ‘And in nothing terrified 
by your adversaries ; which is to them an evident 
token of perdition, but to you of salvation, and 
that of God. For unto you it is given in the 
behalf of Christ, not only to believe on him, but 
also to suffer for his sake.’ ” 

“Every morning I ask myself if I am able,” 
said the nurse. “ Then I call to mind what others 
have suffered ; and I pray that, if it is his will, it 
may not be mine to testify for him in this way.” 

“ Jesus, you remember, prayed that, if possible, 
the cup might pass from him, if it was the will of 
his Father. He was human ; he shrunk from pain 
as we do ; but he did not yield,” replied Octavia. 

Vera came in to say that the gardener had given 
her the ripest and the best. 

“ He knew nurse had company,” she said, with a 
smile. 

As Octavia plucked the grapes one by one, she 
told of the Count’s journey and the hope she had 


28 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


that this visit to the Duke would cause him to see 
the injustice of persecuting the Vaudois on account 
of their religion.” 

“ It is one and the same faith. We are all 
Vaudois,” said the nurse, as she crossed her hands 
simply. 

“ I cannot deny that I am at times weighed down 
with fears and dark forebodings,” replied Octavia. 
“ Then the music of his own words falls upon my 
heart like balm. ‘ But when they persecute you in 
this city, flee ye into another. Are not two spar- 
rows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall 
not fall on the ground without your Father.’ We 
are of more consequence than sparrows. Christ 
died for us. We are his purchase, and we must feel 
assured at all times of his protection. He will 
protect his own,” said Octavia, looking into the face 
of the nurse with her beautiful eyes. 

“ You have comforted me, inasmuch as you have 
led my poor thoughts up to the blessed Comforter 
himself. And now you must sing to me,” said the 
nurse. 

When the music died away, the sun was throwing 
slant beams across the well sanded floor. 

“ How beautiful is the sunset ! ” said Octavia. 

“ Every time it sets I am reminded that the sun 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


29 


of my life is setting ! Only to rise again on the 
morrow,” added the nurse, while a smile irradiated 
her white, thin face. 

Vera walked with Octavia as far as the terrace ; 
then she stopped and held up her red lips for a kiss. 

“ You will come again ? I will tell Nurse Flavel 
that you will come again,” said the child, running 
away just as fast as her feet could carry her. 

When Octavia reached the castle, Arnaud’s horn 
was heard winding in and out of the forest, and 
presently the entire cavalcade came sweeping up in 
broken lines to the park gates. The Countess was 
riding leisurely ; her sons, Claude and Louis, with 
their palfreys, on each side of her. 

“ It has been an exciting day,” she said, as she 
dismounted. “Claude and Louis were wild with 
delight.” Then, dropping her voice quietly, “It is 
doubtless this visit to Savoy. I cannot feel quite at 
ease until the Count is with us again. Have you 
had a good day ? ” she asked Octavia. 

“ I was with Nurse Flavel. This woman has a 
a good memory. She knew of the Count’s journey, 
and this led her to repeat to me many incidents in 
the past. Her father lived in the time of the 
Duchess Yolande. She has heard him tell of the 
edict, enjoining the chatelains of Pignerol, Cavour, 


30 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


and Lucerna to cause all the Vaudois to return 
within the pale of the Roman Catholic Church. 
She fears that Caragli will be finally called to en- 
dure what Coni has already suffered.” 

“May God in his mercy spare us. I tremble 
when I think of it,” returned the Countess, pressing 
her gloved hands convulsively. 

“ Our hope is in God. He does not promise us 
exemption from suffering. He says, and his word 
is a strong tower, ‘ My grace is sufficient for thee,’ ” 
answered Octavia. 

The next instant the lads came up the court- 
yard with a little noise and riot. Claude was hold- 
ing a heron’s wing in his hand. 

“ It was my first shot, and I consider it a good 
omen. Will you wear a heron’s plume ? ” he said 
to Octavia. 

“ I will wear it,” she said, smiling into the lad’s 
face. 


CHAPTER 11. 


AT THE CASTLE. 

rriHE scholarly tastes of the seigneurs of Solaro 
brought them into very general notice. Per- 
sons of intelligence, as well as rank, crowded 
around them ; and as the castle was open at all 
times for religious worship, especially for the cele- 
bration of the Lord’s Supper, so did they come for 
literary discussion upon topics and questions that had 
to do with the government and the enlightenment 
of the people. The Countess of Cardes and the 
Baroness of Termes, with their young people, were 
upon such terms of intimacy that their coming and 
going was not more noticeable than those of their 
own household. 

Blanche De Rovera was the orphan daughter of 
a cousin of Count Solaro. She had lived in the 
castle from her babyhood. She was two years 
younger than Octavia ; but with a figure so slight, 
in addition to a timid nature, that she seemed more 
a child than she really was. She loved books and 

poetry with a passion, and her rendering of the old 

31 


32 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


Romance tongue was a source of gratification to 
others, as well as a pleasure to herself. Upon one 
occasion, as she was reading aloud from The Noble 
Lesson, a poem in the Romance tongue, Francis 
Garde and his sister Rhetia entered unobserved, and 
dropped down as willing listeners. Francis had 
been educated in Geneva. There was that in the 
reading, however, that surprised him. 

“Will you repeat that passage?” he asked, 
struck by the awed manner of the Countess. 

“ If there be any one that loves and fears Jesus 
Christ, of whom it is said, that he will not 
slander, nor swear, nor lie, nor be guilty of dis- 
honesty or theft, nor give himself up to dissolute- 
ness, nor revenge himself upon his enemies, they 
call him a Vaudois, and exclaim, ‘ Death to him ! ’ ” 
read Blanche, in a clear voice. 

“I have read it, and still I do not remember 
that I attached any especial importance to it, as 
being the expression of passing events,” replied the 
young man. 

“This poem shows unmistakably, I think, that 
the Vaudois Church has been persecuted from very 
early times,” said the Countess, as if in explanation 
of the reading. “ There was some discussion over 
the question last night ; and this morning Blanche 


VILI.ANOVA-SOLARO. 33 

brought the poem to corroborate some of the state- 
ments,” she added, after a pause. 

“When I read this poem,” said Francis, in a 
meditative way, “ it was for the purpose of tracing 
the Vaudois Church by direct line to the Apostles. 
By whom was it written ? ” he asked Octavia. 

“ I see that you are thinking of Waldo and his 
disciples,” she answered, with a smile. “ It may be 
a difficult thing for me to prove ; still, I do not con- 
sider that the poem originated there.” 

“What proof have you to the contrary?” he 
asked. 

“ This poem is in the Eomance language. Waldo 
was from Lyons. It was not the language of 
Lyons,” she replied. 

“ Still better proof lies in the fact,” interrupted 
the Countess, “ that the date of the poem is anterior 
to the expulsion of Waldo and his followers from 
Lyons. They left that city between 1180 and 1190. 
Another consideration. Waldo is not mentioned in 
it ; neither is there the least allusion which can be 
supposed to refer to him. This is not surprising, if 
we suppose the piece was written before his times ; 
but it would be very extraordinary, if its composi- 
tion had been owing to his direct influence, and if 

it was produced by his disciples.” 

C 


34 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


“We cannot bring precise evidence/’ added 
Octavia. “ But the date is fixed by a line which 
refers to the year eleven hundred. 

“ The want of positive testimony goes to favor a 
remote origin,” said Bhetia, who had been very at- 
tentively listening. “Is it not rational to suppose 
that the origin of the Vaudois goes back to some 
period before the time of Waldo, on this very 
ground : that if their origin had been recent, it 
must have been easy to trace it?” 

“We have discussed this question many times,” 
rejoined Octavia, “and we always arrived at the 
same conclusion. The Vaudois make the chain 
which unites the reformed churches with the first 
disciples of our Saviour. Popery has sought to break 
this chain, and is still endeavoring to break it. But 
broken it will not be; because its strength is not 
from men, but from God.” 

The Countess was evidently uneasy. The jour- 
ney the Count had so recently undertaken threw 
a shadow over the present; while the reading of 
the poem, and the allusion to the past, recalled 
scenes of bloodshed, that threatened to be again 
repeated in the valleys. Octavia saw the strain, 
and, with a playful remark to Francis and Bhetia, 
left the apartment. 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


35 


The castle grounds were full of life and anima- 
tion. Games of various kinds were played. Further 
away, archei*s, habited in green, with white hose, and 
having a short, white plume in their caps, were 
stretching their bows, and sending their arrows with 
unerring precision. 

“ Shall we join them ? Francis asked. “ I have 
not tried ray hand for a week, and my fingers abso- 
lutely tingle for a chance to show my skill” — laugh- 
ing lightly as he spoke. 

“ By all means,” said Octavia, throwing a pink 
scarf, fringed with pearls, over her fair shoulders. 

A horn sounded in the court-yard, and they per- 
ceived that Arnaud was surrounded by his dogs; 
while the pages were flying hither and thither, and 
a train of ladies and booted cavaliers stood ready to 
mount. Rhetia exhibited surprise. 

“ There is infinite amusement here ; one tires of 
doing always the same things. How is it that you 
do not ride to-day ? ” she asked Octavia. 

“ It is Saturday ; and we have service to-morrow,” 
was said, firmly. 

“You will think us heathen to be reminded of 
this,” continued Rhetia. 

“It might not have seemed expedient, as the 
Count is absent. But his mission is of such a na- 


36 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


ture, that we felt it would be well. Besides, Barba 
Leutulus can be with us. And how long this may 
be^ we cannot say,” was the response. 

They were walking along the border of the arch- 
ery grounds. Notwithstanding the activity dis- 
played, there was a quiet bearing that betokened 
thoughtfulness. Francis tried his bow, and failed 
to send the arrow to its mark. 

“Another attempt, and then you shall shame my 
skill,” he said to Octavia. 

“Not to-day; my thoughts are elsewhere,” she 
answered, gravely. 

Another attempt was not more successful than 
the first. Francis threw down his bow in despair. 

“Now, I think of it, your grace reminded me 
that it is Saturday, and to-morrow there will be 
service in the chapel. Is there not service there 
every day ? ” he asked Octavia. 

“ The pastor is not with us every day. Indeed, 
his visits are rare,” was the reply. 

“ I confess to a curiosity to see this Lentulus. I 
have heard much of him,” said the young man. 

“ You will come, will you not ? ” asked Octavia. 

“ I will come ; that is, if you will not trouble me 
with questions.” 

“ I assure you that I will not say a word to you.” 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


37 


“ Then I recant. You shall question me.’^ 

“ No, you must decide for youmelf.” 

“ That I have been trying to do, and I am not 
aecided.” 

“ If you are not on one side, then you are upon 
the other,” said Octavia. 

“ It is a grave issue,” returned the young man. 

“ The worth of the soul,” was said, timidly. 

The Countess, leaning upon Blanche’s arm, now 
approached them. 

“ Did you come off victor ? ” asked Blanche, with 
a rare smile. 

“ These ladies can witness to the lack of skill,” 
replied the young man. 

Bhetia was walking slowly ; great billowy clouds 
w^ere floating lightly; the castle, half hidden in 
the dense shade of majestic trees, reflected the 
sun-rays from window and turret. The fountain 
glistened like a shaft of crystal ; innumerable walks 
looked like etchings of silver on emerald. The 
warmth of color, the vivacity of the different 
groups, all conspired to render it lovely ; and still 
over all there w'as a deep-seated seriousness. She 
felt it. She was glad of a diversion. She slipped 
away from the Countess and accosted Blanche, as 
she came to join the promenade. 


38 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


“You have the air of one who is bent upon 
discovery. Pray what may it be ? ” was asked, 
lightly. 

“I have discovered that Lentulus will admin- 
ister the sacrament to-morrow.” 

“And does this make you weep, child? Posi- 
tively you are in tears.” 

“ At the last sacrament I promised ” — gazing with 
humid eyes into the face of Blanche. 

“ And now you will redeem your promise. Is it 
not so ? ” was asked persuasively. 

“ Alas ! I am no nearer to a decision than I was 
before. Cannot one love these things without 
danger of suffering?” looking up timidly, as she 
spoke. 

“ The blessed Lord suffered. You are not afraid 
of following in the path he appoints? ” 

“ There are times when I think I am able ; and 
then again, as to-day, I faint and am ready to turn 
aside.” 

“ Have you said anything to Octavia of this ? ” 

“ Not yet,” was the answer. 

They had fallen quite behind the others. The 
Countess was walking listlessly, with her hand on 
Francis’ arm. 

The ladies of the castle were fond of the chase. 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


39 


But to-day the Countess was not with them. There 
was much complaint before they went out, and the 
run was not long. Even the dogs looked dejected, 
and the game took to covert. It was useless. 
Arnaud sounded his horn three times, and three 
times it echoed along the track of forest and plain. 

“We are going home,” said one, petulantly. 

“It is the best place for us,” said another. “It 
is no day for hunting. To-morrow there will be 
mass in the chapel.” 

“ Not mass ! what are you thinking of? ” 

“ If not mass, what then ? ” 

“ The sacrament of the Lord’s Supper.” 

“What is that but mass?” was asked, with 
heightened color. 

“ Very different, as you will see if you are there,” 
was the reply. 

“ Then I shall not be there. I have no idea of 
being roasted for my religion,” was the reply. 

Suddenly, between the trees, not ten paces from 
them, appeared a gentleman, tall, frank, and com- 
manding in his appearance. 

“You are going to the castle, doubtless. I will 
walk with you,” he said, pleasantly. 

The ladies acknowledged his bow, and together 
walked leisurely. Meantime, the hunters were 


40 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


spurring the hoi’ses. Their gay streamers, as seen 
through the openings, had a brilliant effect. 

“ Have you heard from the Count since he left?” 
the gentleman asked, as his gaze folio Aved the line 
of prancing steeds. 

“The Countess received neAvs of his arrival. 
His reception by the Duke and Duchess Avas most 
gracious,” was the reply. 

“God grant that his words may move their 
hearts to a right appreciation of their duty. For 
this we must pray,” was said fervently. 

They were now near enough to be seen by the 
small party standing on the steps of the castle. 
At once the Countess, accompanied by Octavia and 
Francis Carde, came out to receive the visitors. 

It was the pastor, Lentulus. 

“A very different person from the one I had 
fancied him to be,” said the lady whom the pastor 
had first addressed. “ I shall go to the chapel to- 
morrow.” 

“At the risk of being roasted ? ” asked the other, 
laughing. 

There was a quick look, and the fine eyes filled 
with tears. 

“ I spoke foolishly ; forget it,” she said, hastily. 
And quickly running up the steps, Avas lost to view. 


CHAPTER III. 

SGiriO LENTULUS, THE PASTOR, 

rriHE sun stood in glory in the heaven, and 
among the trees groups of people were seen 
coming up to the chapel. It was a perfect day. 
The fragrance of flowers filled the air, and birds 
sung; but the plash of water in the basin was 
stilled. For it was the Lord’s Day, and thoughts 
of the ordinance of the Supper filled every heart. 

The Countess of Moretta arrived early. She 
had suffered the loss of her estates rather than re- 
linquish her trust in Christ. It was a privilege to 
receive her, and at the Castle of Solaro she was 
made welcome. The seigneurs of Ozasco and 
Frossac, although newly-born to the gospel life, 
were already nourished with the pure, spiritual 
milk, which strengthens the soul of the Christian. 
They had tasted that the Lord is gracious; and, 
rather than abandon his ways, they renounced their 
goods, the houses in which they were born, and 
their hereditary fields, in order to preserve their 
religion. 


42 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


As the people took their places, the music of the 
Twenty-third Psalm was softly chanted. Then the 
tall form of the pastor, Lentulus, rose up before 
them ; and clasping his hands, he stood with bowed 
head reverently. Silence reigned in the chapel. 
Human thought and human feeling was put aside. 
It was the meeting of the finite with the Infinite. 
The house was full of his presence. The turning 
of a leaf, soft as the rippling movement of an 
angel’s wing, broke the spell — then a voice sweetly 
human, but calm as one anchored in God, broke 
forth : 

“ I am the resurrection and the life ; he that be- 
lieveth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he 
live. And whosoever liveth and believeth in me, 
shall never die. Believest thou this ? ” 

Francis Garde had taken his seat with the air of 
a true worshiper. As the pastor closed the book, 
and leaned slightly to the audience, he repeated the 
question: “Believest thou this?” A sudden thrill 
was perceptible in the face of the young man. It 
was the voice of his own heart sounding outward. 
He had stifled it; but it would be heard. And, 
hearing it, he must answer. With the emblems of 
the broken body and the spilled blood before him, 
the pastor told a simple story of a life such as never 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


43 


before was seen upon the earth. A life of love and 
sacrifice ; he told of the paths he trod, the miracles 
he wrought, the constant source of good to others ; 
but never a thought of himself. 

“Through Christ, sufferings become sanctified. 
And when we are called to suffer, my brethren,” he 
said tenderly, “ should we not rejoice and count it 
gain, inasmuch as we are by this made partakers 
with Christ ? ‘ If we believe not, yet he abideth 

faithful ; he cannot deny himself.’ ” 

Francis Carde sent a swift glance into the up- 
turned faces. There w^ere those who believed, and 
their lives were hid with Christ in God ; .there were 
others who did not believe. There was a dividing 
line. Upon which side of that line was he standing? 
It was a question he had often asked himself. 

“ There may not come to us another opportunity,” 
said the pastor. “ We are troubled on every hand ; 
some of us already know what it is to give up all 
for Christ. To such, he is above all precious. 
There is a blessed closeness of communion enjoyed 
by the soul that holds nothing dearer than Christ. 
Blessed indeed is such a soul ! ” 

Once more the strains of softest music swelled 
into a triumphant song. Nurse Flavel’s face 
reflected the beauty of a living faith. The Countess 


44 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


of Solaro was pale and tearful. The Count had 
taken upon himself to speak face to face with the 
enemies of his church. Especial prayer was 
offered for him that he might be permitted to re- 
turn, bringing peace to the people of the valleys. 

At the table few words w'ere said. It w^as the 
Master’s feast. He w’as there ; and like John, they 
were permitted to draw very near to him. The 
blessing of his grace was upon them, and with his 
stripes they were healed. 

As they passed out, Vera was walking with 
Octavia. 

“ I feel so strange,” began one of the women near 
them, “ quite as if I were lifted up with the chair 
on which I am sitting, and were flying aw^ay, I 
know not whither. I feel it here,” laying her hand 
on her heart. “ I am living in eternity. Every- 
thing is beautiful — the sunlight, the rustling of the 
leaves, the birds, and the fresh, pure air. Give me 
your hand, child. Tell me, is it real ; is it true ? It 
is God’s love over and around me. I live in him. 
I am his.” 

For answer, Octavia spoke gently to her, and 
soothed her into the deep-seated rest of a child, who 
IS conscious of a Father’s love and protection. 
Then she turned and went into Nurse Flavel’s room. 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


45 


Groups were scattered over the grounds. Ques- 
tions relative to the church were discussed, the 
persecution of individuals and valleys. There were 
stringent laws against foreigners. Lentulus was a 
foreigner. 

“We must not be troubled,” he said, with a 
manner that inspired confidence. “God w^ould 
have us without carefulness. How soothing the 
words : ‘ Be careful for nothing ; but in everything 

by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let 
your requests be made known unto God.’ ‘ But my 
God shall supply all your need according to his 
riches in glory by Christ Jesus.’ ” 

In listening, the Countess of Solaro had grown 
calm. 

“ I see it. I must feel that it will be well,” she 
said. 

“Confidence in the protecting care of an indi- 
vidual brings rest. A full, firm confidence leaves 
no room for distrust,” returned the pastor. 

“ And in rest we grow upward. I will think of 
this — I will rest,” said the Countess. 

It was victory ; she had for the time overcome 
her fears. Would she forget, and go backward? 
This question arose in Octavia’s mind, as she heard 
the words of the Countess; but she made no re- 


46 VILLA NO VA-SOLARO. 

sponse. She was just returning from Nurse FlaveFs 
room. 

Lentulus mingled freely with the people. He 
had a word for each. He was well aware that it 
might be the last time he should see them. But 
there was nothing sad in the thought — nothing but 
joy. As he walked from one group to the other, 
every one was struck with his appearance. His 
figure was tall and commanding, with that natural 
majesty that rendered him noticeable in any com- 
pany. Octavia encountered him at the entrance 
of one of the tents. 

“You will find Francis Garde here,” she said. 
“ I am anxious for you to speak to him. I think 
he has something to say that will please you.” 

With this, Octavia turned to her companions. 
The pastor entered the tent ; a few moments later, 
however, she saw him walking away in the direction 
of the castle, and Francis Garde was with him. 
The pastor’s room was on the second floor, and 
communicated by a spiral staircase with the gar- 
den. She saw them as they crossed the garden and 
mounted the steps. On the landing, they stopped 
and looked over the scattered groups. Then they 
entered, and the door was shut. 


CHAPTER IV. 

COUNT SOLARO’S RETURN. 

rriHE presence of the Count of Solaro served to 
revive old memories in the heart of the Duke 
of Savoy. In the war between France and Spain, 
the Duke had been the ally of the latter power, 
and had lost all his possessions, which, however, 
were now restored to him. Many of the seigneurs 
who fought by his side had embraced Protestantism. 
In remembrance of substantial favors that he had 
himself received from these, he could not restrict 
liberty of conscience, and that religious quiet which 
they cultivated in their own homes. Under special 
security he allowed them their property and their 
belief, provided they would abstain from public 
religious exercises in their houses or elsewhere. 
The Count plead for more freedom. 

“Religious service at home is a privilege that 
every family should enjoy,” he said. 

The Duchess besought her husband to grant the 
request, and it was at last reluctantly given. 

Notwithstanding there were no gatherings in the 

47 


48 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


churches, there was a perceptible increase in the 
number of awakened souls, while Roman Catholi- 
cism had fallen into a state of degradation. An In- 
quisitor, writing to the Holy Office of Rome, says : 

“I cannot describe to you the utter decay of 
everything connected with religion in this country ; 
the churches are in ruins ; the altars are despoiled ; 
the sacerdotal vestments are tattered ; the priests 
are ignorant; and all things sacred are held in 
contempt.’’ 

This letter had barely reached Rome when the 
Duke of Savoy was told that, having returned to 
the possession of his hereditary states, his glory re- 
quired the re-establishment, also, in its integrity, 
of the religion of his ancestors. 

It was by these artful methods that a Prince was 
induced to become the executioner of his most 
faithful subjects, to weaken his states, and to 
destroy his people. The Duke began by urging 
upon the people the necessity of outwardly con- 
forming to the rules of the Roman Catholic Church, 
hinting cunningly that it would be the same with 
their belief A few were deceived by this specious 
reasoning ; but the majority refused to bow to an 
outward form, and act the lie in the face of high 
heaven. 


VILI A.NOVA-SOLARO. 


49 


The Duke of Savoy was pressed upon all sides. 
He was irritable, and his health suffered. In that 
same year the Cardinal Babba wrote from Rome, 
by order of his Holiness, to inform the Duke that 
he would recall the nuncio accredited to his court, 
if he refused to put to death a relapsed heretic of 
Vercelli. The name of the prisoner w^as George 
Olivet. He was a proselyte, whom Roman Catholi- 
cism had not been able to retain. His Holiness, 
the Holy Church, the Holy Office, demanded that 
he should die. It was made an occasion of diplo- 
matic rupture. From this document we learn that 
the Duke of Savoy, notwithstanding his severities, 
was still accused of resistance to the plans of Rome. 
No master can be more difficult to serve than 
tyranny, and none is more ungrateful. 

Orders w’ere therefore transmitted to the gov- 
ernors of the surroundings towns, that the fugitive 
Reformed should not be received into them. Em- 
manuel Philibert even wrote to this effect to the 
governors of Saluzzo, Nice, and Provence, as well 
as to Charles IX., to whom, by this means, he hoped 
to make himself agreeable. The instructions did 
not bear that shelter must be absolutely refused to 
the Reformed, but that they must not be received 

without their promising to abjure. This measure, 
D 


50 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


however, was equivalent to an absolute proscription ; 
for if they had chosen to abjure, they would have 
no need to seek shelter so far from home. 

The Count of Solaro, fully perceiving how im 
human and senseless these arbitrary orders were, 
besought the Duke, as a personal favor, at least, to 
postpone the execution of them till he had gone in 
person to CaragH, to judge with his own eyes of their 
propriety. The Duke consented to the journey. 
Two days before his arrival, the command had been 
given by the priest for all Protestants to leave, as 
the Duke was on his way. It was a cruel move- 
ment, and was unknown to the Count. On the 
approach of the royal visitor, the Reformed fell 
into the error of running away. Such an act was 
regarded as a mark of alienation from their sover- 
eign. The Duke was irritated, and immediately 
caused a proclamation to be issued, expressly for- 
bidding any kind of provisions being carried out of 
the town, in order to punish, in this way, the Re- 
formed who had unfortunately left it on his arrival. 

The Count of Solaro made haste to inquire into 
the matter, and the story was traced ; but the priest 
received only a mild reprimand. 

Thus far the house of Solaro, by reason of the 
friendly relations of the two families, was allowed 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


51 


many privileges that were refused to others. This 
was not to be continued, however. The Archbishop 
of Turin, not satisfied with the leniency manifested 
by the Duke of Savoy, repaired to Caragli, desiring, 
as he expressed himself, merely to bring back the 
people to the true church. He made his appear- 
ance there with a numerous suite, and with all the 
ceremony of royalty. He said that his heart was 
full of kindness for his “ poor wandering sheep,” as 
he called the fugitive Christians. He sent them 
safe conducts, and invited them to conference with 
himself. Some came, and a few were won back to 
Popery. Before he departed, he established, through 
the Duke of Savoy, a garrison in the town, the 
soldiers of which were to be maintained and lodged 
in the houses of the Protestants, until the latter 
should return to Roman Catholicism. 

The Count of Solaro, with his brothers, visited 
the people, and enjoined patience. 

“ War threatens between France and Savoy,” he 
said, “ and the Duke will soon find it for his interest 
to recall his men, and will doubtless free you from 
the necessity of flying from your homes as fugitives.” 

The war cloud that threatened Savoy proved to 
be a wind cloud, pushed here and there, and it 
finally disappeared. The Senate at Turin did not 


52 


VILLAXO V A -SOL AHO. 


cease to inflame the mind of the Duke. He said 
that such a family as that of Villanova-Solaro 
ought no longer to be permitted to stand as a bul- 
wark for Protestantism. Accordingly, the Chancel- 
lor, Count of Stropiano, their relative, visited the 
castle, and in the name of his royal highness, 
entreated them to abjure; but they were immov- 
able. 

“ Let our sovereign,” said they, “ demand any 
other sacrifice, and we shall have pleasure in 
making it.” 

“ He repeats to you, by my mouth,” said the 
Chancellor, “ that it is his resolution not to suffer 
two religions in the country.” 

These steadfast Protestants displayed the great- 
ness of true nobility in the troubles that menaced 
them. 

“Conviction imposes a necessity,” they said to 
Count Stropiano. We could have wished to remain 
in our ancestral home; but we will not abandon 
our faith. We are in the hands of God. We are 
his; neither can we prove disloyal, although an 
earthly sovereign commands it.” 

“ Then let me advise you to sell your estates im- 
mediately. The friendly relations between your 
family and the house of Savoy have, in the eyes of 


VILLANOVA-SOLAKO. 


53 


the Senate, protected you quite too long,” was said 
resolutely. 

The Chancellor Stropiano was a rigid Roman 
Catholic. He could not comprehend how it was, 
that his relations could make themselves fugitives 
rather than conform outwardly to the ceremonies 
of the Papal Church. 

Before he left the castle, the Chancellor, with the 
interest of a relative, endeavored to win Octavia 
to go with him for a visit to the Duchess' of Savoy. 
Octavia, at this period, was scarcely eighteen. She 
had black hair and a brilliant complexion; great, 
gazel-like eyes, veiled by long lids ; coral and deli- 
cate lips ; a graceful neck ; a full, enchanting figure, 
with feet and hands exquisitely moulded. 

“ It is a pity to deny the court so much beauty,” 
he said to the Count, her brother. “ If only a good 
Catholic, Catherine de Medicis would be as proud 
of her as Charles IX. is of his ‘Ma Soeur Margot,’ 
‘ Sister Madge,’ as he calls her.” 

A swift look shot out of Octavia’s eyes ; for she 
had been listening. 

“Marguerite is not a Roman Catholic,” she 
exclaimed. “ Neither is Reni of France, nor Cath- 
erine of Savoy.” 

“Tut, tut!” said the Chancellor, softly. “If 


54 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


these right royal ladies are not good Catholics, they 
are sufficiently wise to keep their opinions to them- 
selves. They do not set themselves in opposition. 
As good subjects, they are obedient to the higher 
powers.” 

The speech was intended to be conciliatory. 
Octavia regained her self-possession. 

“As to the proposed visit. I cannot leave my 
family at this time,” she said, with an air of well- 
bred complacency. “ It is possible that I may 
make a visit at some future period, if the Duchess 
will be so gracious as to receive me.” 

Count Stropiano professed himself to be well 
satisfied, and the leave-taking was altogether in a 
fraternal spirit. 

This outward calm, however, did not deceive 
Count Solaro. Caragli must be abandoned. His 
brothers were of the same opinion. Accordingly 
they made sale of a part of their lands, and retired 
to the Marquisate of Saluzzo, which was then in the 
possession of France. During several years of 
trouble and domestic agitation, they were sometimes 
in France and sometimes in Piedmont; and always, 
wherever they were, they became a conspicuous 
mark for Papal hate and treachery. 


CHAPTER V. 

TEE MARQUISATE OF SALUZZO. 

TN the bottom of the basin and on the elevated 
level grounds of Paesane, and in the deep 
valleys of Cruzzol and Onzino, where the head 
waters of the Po descend from Mount Viso, the 
Vaudois appear to have had their most ancient 
settlements in the province of Saluzzo. It has been 
alleged that their origin in these mountains was 
contemporaneous with that of the other Vaudois 
who inhabit the left bank of the Po. Be this as it 
may, the Marquisate of Saluzzo dates its existence 
from the twelfth century. This tract of country 
was given to Beatrice, granddaughter of Adelaide 
of Suza. They remained, therefore, dependent 
upon the marche of Suza, and when the territory 
of Suza passed into the hands of the Counts of 
Savoy, these Counts found themselves also the 
suzerains of the Marquises of Saluzzo. 

Saluzzo had known persecution ; her people had 
been tortured by command of the Papal See, and 

her lands had gone to swell the wealth of the 

55 


66 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


hereditary princes ; but at the time when Coni and 
Caragli suffered most, the Edict, of Pacification, 
newly obtained by the King of Navarre in favor 
of co-religionists, caused an influx of Vaudois from 
other parts, who thus crowded to the living springs 
of grace as to another Siloam ; and thus evangelical 
doctrines spread, and they had pastors, deacons, 
and consistories, and established a regular service, 
which only could not always be conducted in 
public. 

The Count of Solaro, in leaving Caragli for 
Saluzzo, looked to this Edict of Pacification as a 
promise of safety. Hardly had he established 
himself, however, when Louis de Bisaque, who at 
this time succeeded the Count de Nevers as the 
King’s lieutenant in the province of Savoy, wrote 
to the court to have the authorization withdrawn. 
Charles IX. himself replied, in these terms : 

“ By the advice of our much honored lady and 
mother, we declare, by these presents, that in the 
Edict of Pacification we never intended to compre- 
hend the exercise of religion in the towns of 
Piedmont.” 

The Count of Solaro was troubled. Doubtless 
it was on his account that this letter had been 
written. Charles IX., although a King, was still 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


57 


but the tool of Catherine de Medici. The result 
was a consultation with his brothei*s, and prepara- 
tion made for another departure not yet decided 
upon. 

The Countess of Solaro was in delicate health, 
and the new danger filled her with apprehension. 
Drawing her children to her side, she wept over 
them. 

“Was ever a mother more unfortunate? For 
months I have lived as with a sword suspended over 
my head and held by a single hair.” 

Octavia attempted to comfort her; while her 
calm trust and firm demeanor served to strengthen 
the Count and give him courage. Blanche de 
Kovera was still with them. In adversity, her shy, 
timid manner took the form of very great open- 
ness. She dared to think and to say the truth, with 
the calmness that denotes strength. Her enemies 
were awed, and after the first few questions did not 
urge her to say more. 

“We must be prudent,” Octavia was sometimes 
forced to say. 

“ But not shrinking. Let them have the truth. 
It is wholesome and will do them good,” answered 
Blanche. 

“The truth, yes; but in such a way that it will 


58 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


teach them, rather than stir them to evil,” urged 
Octavia. 

At this time Valerio Solaro had been to Chieri, 
a town not far from Saluzzo. There he met with 
M. La Kochelle, a gentleman in the suite of Count 
de Nevers, who informed him, that the King of 
Navarre (Henry IV.), was soon to receive in 
marriage the hand of Marguerite of France, the 
sister of Charles IX. 

‘‘ This is well,” cried Solaro. “ Now we are secure. 
Now we can claim a little peace.” 

“ How is this ? ” asked La Rochelle. 

“Marguerite is not a Roman Catholic,” re- 
turned Solaro, not without distrust now that he 
had gone so far. 

“ True, and Henry is the King of the Hugue- 
nots,” he added, with a countenance that betrayed 
nothing. 

“ We are Vaudois ; but our religion is much the 
same,” returned Solaro, with a well feigned air of 
indifference. “This marriage at first amazed me; 
for I had considered the King inimical to Protest- 
antism. This giving his sister to a Huguenot, 
shows that the rumor is false. He is not merely 
friendly, he is fraternal ; the King of Navarre will 
be his brother-in-law.” 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


59 


“ It does strike one as being singular,” said La 
Rochelle. “But we have many Protestants at 
court. The Duke de Guise, bitter as he is, may 
frequently be seen in juxtaposition to the old Ad- 
miral Coligny; or quietly conversing with the 
Prince de Cond4. As for doctrines, I don’t think it 
matters. For myself, I hardly know at times what 
I am — Catholic or Huguenot” — laughing lightly 
as he spoke. 

The business that called Solaro to Chieri was 
finished ; but the night was coming, and a storm 
threatened. Spurred and booted for the ride, the 
young man looked perplexed. It was a journey 
that required sunlight. 

“ The inn is not very promising ; but I have a 
room. If you will do me the honor to share it with 
me, you are welcome,” said La Rochelle. 

With this Solaro gave the gentleman a more 
scrutinizing look. He wore a black doublet, orna- 
mented with jet buttons, and a short cloak of the 
same color faced with pale violets ; his boots were 
of black leather, polished, and the hilt of his sword 
was of steel, cunningly worked ; his complexion 
was dark, and his eyes were blue ; a small mous- 
tache shaded his chiseled lips ; his teeth were good, 
and his smile was frank and cordial. 


60 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


“A thousand thanks for your kindness; and, 
believe me, I shall ever remember it as an honor 
that so courtly a gentleman had the goodness to 
offer me a share of his room,” said Solaro, with a 
grace that continued to win for him in the opinion 
of La Kochelle. “ But look ! the clouds are not 
as threatening ; and before an hour the moon will 
be up.” 

Solaro looked every inch the gentleman. La 
Kochelle remarked this at the first. “ What a pity 
he is a Protestant,” was said under his breath. The 
former, fearing that he had already made himself 
too free, determined, whether storm or not, to set out 
on his return. To remain longer in company with 
one evidently so agreeable and well mannered would 
only be to enlarge the confidence already begun 
between them, and might in the end lead to very 
unpleasant complications. Thus questioning with 
himself, Solaro ordered his horse and paid his score. 
The inn-keeper was a little, sinister-looking man, 
with a shock of coarse gray hair, surmounted by a 
close, red cap ; he had a hooked nose, like the beak 
of a bird of prey, and small, black, bead-like eyes, 
that seemed to swell and burn with a fierce heat. 
As the gentleman stood ready to mount, he feigned 
an unusual degree of interest with regard to the 




Villaiiova-Solaro 


Piiirc 61 




«• 



i 


\ 


I 

I 







VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


61 


journey, and the necessity of going out on such a 
wild night. 

“We could make you very comfortable; and the 
rooms are quite clean,” he began. “Many’s the 
gentleman that puts up here for the night, and a 
laugh goes with him in the morning.” 

Solaro replied that he knew the roads, and his 
horse was quite fresh, thanks to the care he had 
had. Besides, the ride was not long ; he would be 
at home before midnight. Then vaulting into the 
saddle, he bowed with courtly grace to La Ro- 
chelle and the small man in the red cap ; and, fol- 
lowed by his attendant, swept out into the night. 

“ Bravo ! he rides well. Who can he be ? ” ex 
claimed La Rochelle, as his eyes followed the flying 
steed and the masterly hand that held him. 

“ You don’t know him ! ” cried the man in the 
red cap. 

“ No ! ” with a shrug of the shoulders, that did 
not escape the flashing eyes of the landlord. 
“ How can I be expected to know the gentlemen of 
these parts? This is my first journey in this direc- 
tion; and, indeed, I wouldn’t have made it now 
but for — ” stopping suddenly, and feigning to be 
much occupied with a couple of greyhounds play- 
ing near him. 


62 


VILL ANO VA-SOL ARO. 


“ The Vicar, you would say^ ” said the man in 
the red cap, with a laugh. Then, with a thread of 
malice in his words ; “ The Vicar is a man to carry 
a secret, and still he is not above the desire to 
please. He honors us with a visit often, and he is 
not above asking after our guests.” 

“ Just so ! ” said Rochelle. “ What splended ani- 
mals ! ” again speaking to the greyhounds. “ Pray, 
do they belong here ? But first answer with regard 
to the gentleman who just left. Doubtless you 
know all about him.” 

“ That I do I ” said the little man, pleased to see 
that his guest was not above talking with him in a 
friendly way. “ The house of Solaro was a noble 
house, and honored as the Duke’s own. But times 
have changed ” — closing his eyes so that the gleam- 
ing fire was fiattened to a line. 

“You say, was! Is it not at present a noble 
house ? ” asked La Rochelle. 

“As for that matter, the house may be ; but the 
Count and his brothers are Protestants, and the 
Duke gave out that two religions could not be 
allowed ; and silly as they were, they forfeited their 
estates, rather than give up their religion.” 

“ I might have known it. I did know it,” said 
La Rochelle to himself. Then a moment later he 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


ea 

said to the landlord : “A bad business ; a very bad 
business. Wby don’t be come to court? He 
would find bimself in genial company,” be said 
with a loud laugb, and, at tbe same time, turned to 
enter tbe bouse. 

“A pity you must take your dinner alone,” said 
tbe landlord; “and by the smell of the stew I 
think it is ready. And a lusty mess it is ; enough 
for a half dozen men. I made sure the gentleman 
would join you ; and he had every appearance of 
being a good eater.” 

“ And as he did not, you shall take his place. It 
is a pity to have a good meal half eaten ; and I 
have but a poor appetite when a storm is threaten- 
ing,” was said, lightly. 

“ You do me honor; but I see my wife is winking 
at me ; and when a woman winks at a man, and 
that man is her husband, there is sure to be some- 
thing in the wind more than common.” 

“ But you will take a glass to our further ac- 
quaintance. A man of your intelligence is worth 
talking with. You can doubtless tell me many 
things about the people in your neighborhood, and 
a wink more or less will not harm,” said the 
stranger, facetiously. 

“As to that matter, a man who keeps an inn and 


64 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


has kept one for nigh upon twenty years, and 
especially an inn where the gentry comes, is ex- 
pected to know something; and my wife is none 
of the slowest. And here’s to your health, and my 
wife will join me in this,” said the small man, 
draining his cup at the same time. 

“ Your wife, yes. Here’s to the good woman, and 
she’ll wink all the more,” said La Rochelle, laugh- 
ing, as he filled the cup to the brim, and handed it 
himself to the landlord. 

“Thanks! and again I say thanks,” said the 
small man, as he hurried away to his wife. 

“The little beast! If he plays me false,” said 
the young man, as he nibbled away at his dinner. 
“Such wretched cooking; but better could not 
be expected. I must pretend that it is nice, how- 
ever. But it is all pretence. Here Trifle ! ” — to 
the greyhound, who came bounding through the 
window — “ you must help me eat the miserable 
stuff. Heaven grant it is not poisoned ! ” 

Before the meal was finished a smartly dressed 
man entered, and, shutting the door behind him, 
threw a swift gaze around the room. 

“You need not fear to say what you have come 
to say. We are alone,” said La Rochelle, dropping 
his fork and looking straight at the man. 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


65 


“ The Vicar has the list made out ; but he does 
not wish to send it. He desires to say to you, by 
word of mouth, many things that he did not think 
wise to write. You can use your own discretion in 
this case.’’ 

“When can he see me?” asked La Kochelle, 
leaning back in an easy attitude. 

“At your pleasure.” 

“Very well, I please to go at this moment,” 
rising from the table as he spoke. “ By the by,” 
drawing near the man and speaking in a low voice, 
“did you see a tall, fine-looking gentleman with 
but one attendant ride out of the inn-yard an hour 
ago?” 

“ Mounted on a white horse, much such an one as 
the king might bestride? Yes, I saw him,” an- 
swered the man. 

“He rejoices over the coming marriage. He 
considers it a glorious idea. The Protestants now 
will triumph. Bah ! I think he ought to be there. 
He must be there.” 

The two went out together. At the door of the 
Vicar’s residence, La Rochelle was left to enter 
alone. 

E 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE APPROACHING NUPTIALS. 

S EVERAL weeks elapsed, and Valerio Solaro 
had ceased to think that ill consequences 
would follow his meeting wdth the stranger at 
Chieri, and the frankness with which he had ex- 
pressed himself on hearing of the contemplated 
marriage of the King of Navarre with Marguerite 
of France. Of course it was an indiscretion ; but 
La Rochelle was not a Roman Catholic, and doubt- 
less he did not give it a second thought. Indeed, 
the times were so quiet that the Count had, upon 
several occasions, opened his house for public wor- 
ship, and the Countess, with Octavia and Blanche 
de Rovera, set about their usual occupations with 
hearts lighter than they had known for months 
before. 

On leaving Caragli they had left nearly all of 
their household behind them. Only Arnaud the 
huntsman, and a few poor women, clung to them 
still. Nurse Flavel w’as too feeble to bear the 

change, and had died very soon after they left. 
66 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


67 


Vera had friends who would provide for her ; so 
had many of the others. 

“ We are ourselves wanderers. It is not in our 
power to protect you,” the Countess had said to the 
members of her large family. 

Arnaud was not alone a huntsman. He was a 
man of quick apprehension, and of a good degree 
of intelligence. Added to this, he was devoted to 
the Count of Solaro, and his ears were open to the 
slightest rumor of approaching evil. The children, 
Claude, Louis, and Evrard, looked to him to teach 
them in all manly sports; and when the Count or 
his brothers needed an outrider, Arnaud was pro- 
moted to a position of social equality and confi- 
dence. Arnaud had been to Chieri with Valerio. 
He remembered the stranger, and had likewise 
learned, what he did not repeat when he reached 
home, namely, that La Kochelle’s visit to Chieri 
had for its object a personal interview with the 
Vicar. Had he made this known, it would doubt- 
less have caused uneasiness, and no good would 
have come of it. By keeping it to himself, he 
had the satisfaction of knowing that others were 
not troubled by it; and he could watch quite as 
well, perhaps better, by not being pressed with 
questions. 


68 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


“I think it will come,” he ventured to say to 
himself at times. “ Never a storm so severe as the 
one that follows a dead calm.” 

Under the dominion of France the pastors who 
had been in Piedmont enjoyed a toleration equal to 
the other Protestants of that country; but these 
pastors were mostly foreigners, and on that account 
had been forbidden Piedmont. 

The same proclamation was now made in Saluzzo. 
The Duke of Savoy at the same time demanded 
of the lieutenant of the King of France, in the 
province of Saluzzo, that he should cause all who 
were not born within the kingdom to remove out 
of his government, and that he should not receive 
any fugitive natives of Piedmont who might retire 
to it. The Governor of Saluzzo gave orders accord- 
ingly. 

This blow was principally directed against the 
pastors who were not natives of the Marquisate; 
but not being able to determine upon forsaking 
their flocks, they remained in the country. Truchi, 
a native of Cental in Provence, and Soulf, a 
native of Coni in Piedmont, were imprisoned at 
Saluzzo. Their colleague, Galat^e, although a very 
aged man, repaired to the castle of the King of 
Navarre, in order to secure his influence at court in 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


69 


their favor, and was successful. The Duke of 
Nevers, Governor of Saluzzo, even received orders 
to set all the prisoners at liberty. 

This movement on the part of the King of 
Navarre was a means of encouragement to the 
churches. They now raised their heads, like a 
vigorous plant which the storm, that does not 
altogether break it down, causes to strike root more 
deeply in the soil. 

The family of Count Solaro felt an elasticity of 
spirit quite new to them. Marguerite was a Prot- 
estant, so was Catherine of Savoy, and Ken4, the 
Duchess of Ferrara. So many of the royal family 
being on their side argued well for Protestantism ; 
and already the Vaudois began to think that the 
time would soon come when they should be 
re-instated in their ancestral home. Especially the 
young sons of the Count felt the elation, and with 
Arnaud, they could talk of little else; while the 
faithful man, with keener vision, wiped his eyes 
furtively, lest tears should lead them to question 
him. 

August was the month set for the nuptials, and 
this was approaching. Before it came, however, a 
communication was received from their relative, 
Chancellor Count Stropiano, suggesting the pro- 


70 


VILIANOVA-SOLAEO. 


priety of the Count of Solaro presenting himself at 
the capital on that occasion ; and further suggesting 
that such behavior on his part would, no doubt, 
greatly aid in winning back the estates, of which 
he had been unjustly defrauded. 

The spirit of the letter was kind; but it was so 
unlike the threatening attitude he manifested upon 
the occasion of his visit, that they took alarm. 
Was it possibly a trap to ensnare the Count? 
Arnaud made bold to say that this was the case, 
and advised delay. Then came a letter written by 
one of the ladies at court, and by direction of the 
Queen mother Catherine de Medici, with an invita- 
tion couched in the most friendly terms, that the 
beautiful Octavia, of whose accomplishments and 
learning she had heard such favorable report, 
might be permitted to join the ladies at her court 
during the festivities that would follow the marriage 
of the Princess Marguerite with the King of Na- 
varre. It was not a command; but a desire re- 
spectfully uttered ; and, for a season, it produced a 
very pleasing effect in the mind of each member of 
the family except Octavia. 

“ I am not familiar with such scenes,” she said. 
“ I have never been at court ; and, besides, it could 
hardly be expected of one who has shared exile, 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


71 


thus suddenly to appear in a circle so widely re- 
moved from her present surroundings.” 

Blanche, with a lighter nature, could not compre- 
hend how Octavia could keep from flying away, 
especially as the Duchess of Savoy had shown a sis- 
terly kindness in all her intercourse; and would, 
doubtless, feel a real pleasure in having the young 
girl under her immediate supervision. 

Thus far the Countess had simply listened. 
There were grave questions, and questions that 
would naturally come to a young and pretty 
woman. 

“ In order to a good appearance one must dress 
in the prescribed style. Not that dress is in itself 
important; but often the graceful ease so much 
admired in a lady, has to do largely with her 
habiliments,” was said naively. 

“ It is not a command,” said the Count ; “ and as 
I am included, we will receive the invitation as a 
grace.” And the subject was at once dismissed. 

During all the conversations the young sons of 
the Count had been present. They silently listened 
to everything, and then turned it over with Arnaud 
the huntsman. 

‘‘ If our father would but go, I think it would 
be a grand thing,” said Claude. “The marriage 


72 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


of the king’s sister with the King of Navarre, 
must be a splendid affair ; and then there will be no 
more robbing and killing each other. There will 
be no separate interests.” The young face was full 
of enthusiasm. A royal pageant was pictured on 
the canvas of his imagination, and the light of his 
fancy invested it with a beauty and a grandeur to 
which human eyes must be a stranger. 

“Not so! not so!” said the huntsman, in an 
under tone. Then louder, and with an angry flush 
rising to his face : “ This marriage is more of the 
Queen mother’s managing. She hates the Protest- 
ants. She will exterminate them if she can.” 

“Then why does she allow this marriage?” 
asked Claude. 

“ She does not allow it. It is the means to an 
end. We shall see it. We shall see it ! ” — his voice 
rising to a higher pitch, and then lapsing into 
silence. 

In remaining with Count Solaro, Arnaud had 
ample opportunity to know all that was going on 
in other valleys. Saluzzo was in the enjoyment of 
comparative peace. But the prevalent spirit was 
one of hate. The light of the Reformation sweep- 
ing outward revealed the nakedness of Popery. 
The mass was ignored. In the eyes of Pope and 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


73 


Cardinal any measure was legitimate, and any 
crime worthy of absolution, whereby Protestantism 
could be hurled to the ground, and Romanism once 
more be permanently established. Hence this mar- 
riage was looked upon wdth suspicion. 

“It is a trap!’’ he Avould say, taking care that 
his words were not heard ; for how could he ex- 
plain? And he was conscious that he could not 
explain ; and still it was evident to his own mind. 
The invitation to the Count, and the chance meet- 
ing at Chieri between Valerio Solaro and M. la Ro- 
chelle, filled him with alarm. Such gentlemen 
were not seen in that part of the country without 
some special object. There was one comfort, how- 
ever. Octavia had no wish to mingle in such fes- 
tivities, and the Count was certainly not making 
any preparation. Should he begin to do so, he 
would consider it his duty to speak out. 

So much absorbed with his own thoughts, 
Arnaud had not perceived that Claude had put 
himself in fencing costume, and was now standing 
with his foil ready for action. 

“Valerio is to give me a lesson. My father 
says that I must practice more thoroughly.” 

Arnaud nodded his head in approval, and the 
lesson began. 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE MASSACRE OF THE HUGUENOTS, 
^HERE was a splendid f4te at the Louvre in 



Paris. The windows of the royal residence 
were brilliantly illuminated, and the squares and 
streets adjacent were crowded with people, although 
it was past midnight. 

This assemblage, pressing and turbulent, resem- 
bled in its outlines a dark and rolling sea, each 
swell of which increases to a foaming wave. The 
waves of this sea beat against the walls of the 
Louvre on the one hand, and on the other the 
Hotel de Bourbon offered a strong barrier. 

In spite of the royal f(§te, there was something 
threatening in the aspect of the people. 

The court was celebrating the marriage of Mar- 
guerite de Valois, daughter of Henry H., and sister 
of King Charles TX., with. Henry de Bourbon, 
King of Navarre ; and that very morning the Car- 
dinal de Bourbon had united the young couple, 
with the usual ceremonies observed at the nuptials 
of the royal daughters of France, on a magnificent 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 75 

dais erected purposely at the entrance of Notre- 
Dame. 

This marriage caused astonishment. People 
broke into groups, that stood out like islands in 
the great deep. There was much painful surmising, 
and even grave questioning among certain persons 
who saw more clearly than others. They could 
not comprehend this singular union — ^the virtual 
coming together of the Protestant and the Koman 
Catholic parties ; for the King did not hesitate to 
say, boldly : 

“ In giving my sister Margot to Henry of 
Navarre, I give my sister to all the Protestants of 
the kingdom.” 

This speech assured some, and led others to 
tremble. They read in it a double meaning. They 
asked themselves if this marriage would bring 
about a coalition between such men as the Prince 
de Cond4 and the Duke d’ Anjou, the young Duke 
de Guise and Admiral de Coligny. Especially 
did the friends of the Admiral say this. Instead 
of bitter opposition, and a price upon the reverend 
head of the Admiral, of a hundred and fifty thou- 
sand crowns, the King now honored him and called 
him “ father,” and openly declared that he would 
in the future confide the management of war to him 


76 VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 

alone. In reference to the war in Flanders, he 
said : 

“ My father, there is one other thing against 
which we must be on our guard. The Queen, my 
mother, must not know of this undertaking; we 
must keep it so quiet that she does not hear a word ; 
or, prying as she is, she will spoil it all.” 

Of those who questioned, probably not one was 
further from being at ease than Admiral de Co- 
ligny. Still, he made one at the Church of the 
Notre-Dame. Not without suspicion, we may 
suppose ; for before his departure from Chatillon, a 
woman had pressed her way to him ; and, laying 
hold of his bridle-rein, had begged him not to go 
to Paris. 

“ Oh ! sir, do not set out on this journey, from 
which, if you go, you will never return.” 

The Admiral was much moved. Nevertheless, 
his word was given ; he must go. Teligny, his son- 
in-law, was likewise in the company ; and to him the 
woman made use of the same words. 

Withal, there was mirth and abandonment in 
Paris. The magnificent apartments of the Louvre 
were filled with the noblest of the land. Protest- 
ants and Koman Catholics mingled freely. The 
King, the Queen, the Duke d’ Anjou, and the Duke 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


77 


d’ Alen90u did the honors of the royal f^te, with 
all courtesy and kindness. 

The Duke d’ Anjou had just distinguished him- 
self in the battles of Jarnac and Montcontour. 
And this hero of eighteen smiled benignly, as com- 
pliments were showered upon him, and he was 
likened to the conquerors of Pharsalia and Issus. 
Queen Catherine, radiant with joy and diffuse in 
compliment, congratulated Prince Henry de Cond 4 
on his marriage to the lovely Marie de Cleves ; and 
the young Duke de Guise, the haughtiest noble 
there, seemed to have forgotten his oath to “ exter- 
minate the heretics,” and conversed freely with 
Teligny at the very moment that the bride, divested 
of her royal mantle and flowing veil, was led in by 
her brother, Charles IX., and presented to the 
guests, as Queen of Navarre. 

Three days after this, Charles, with a smile quite 
as bland as a May morning, and words as soft as 
evening zephyrs, sanctioned, if he did not suggest, 
the assassination of Admiral de Coligny ; and this 
was followed by the death of Teligny, and others 
of the Protestant leaders, in quick succession. 

The carnage once begun was not to end with the 
blood of the leaders. Everywhere the pursuit of 
the Huguenots grew more fierce and bitter. And 


78 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


at length the King of Navarre and the Prince de 
Cond4 were the only survivors. 

Not satisfied with this, the shout rung outward, 
“ Death to the Huguenots ! ” And the Protestants, 
wherever they could be found, and irrespective of 
sex or age, were shot down at sight ; making a 
holocaust of sixty thousand. Enough certainly to 
satisfy the hearts of the infamous Catherine de 
M4dici and the cruel Duke de Guise. Enough to 
win frorn Charles IX., the expression, that they 
were all good subjects ; but they w^ere Protestants, 
and he had assured them, from the first, that he 
would have but one religion; therefore, it was 
their own fault. 

The sanguinary thunders of St. Bartholomew; 
sixty thousand victims butchered in a few days; 
echoed along the valleys with a deadening, wither- 
ing sense of desolation. Those who had been 
honored with an invitation to the marriage of the 
King of Navarre were thankful that they had 
stayed at home. The Count of Solaro assembled 
his family, and thanked God for his deliverance. 
Arnaud wept tears of joy. 

“ They did not get my brave master,*’ he said to 
himself. “ Neither did our beautiful Octavia make 
one of the number ; but the murderers will not be 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 79 

satisfied. No ! as long as there is one Protestant 
left they will not be satisfied.” 

Meantime it was discovered that an order to 
cause all the Protestants of the Province of Saluzzo 
to be massacred in one night, had been sent to 
Biragne, who was then Governor. Ignorant that 
this measure related to the whole of France, he was 
troubled at the order, and submitted it to the 
Chapter of the place. Some gave their opinion in 
favor of a complete and immediate execution of the 
decree; but sentiments more humane were also 
expressed. And here, let me say, that the voice of 
the Archdeacon, a Homan Catholic, Samuel Vacca, 
by name, w^as raised in opposition to the massacre 
of the Protestants. 

“It is only a few months,” said he, “since we 
received letters-patent from the King, that the 
pastors who were in confinement should be set at 
liberty, and their flocks left in the enjoyment of 
their ministrations. But nothing has since hap- 
pened which can be regarded as a reason for such a 
change ; it must be supposed that this cruel order 
has been occasioned by false reports. Let us inform 
his majesty that these are honest and peaceable 
people; and that nobody has anything to say to 
their charge, except in regard to their religious 


80 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


opinions ; and if the King persists in his design, it 
will always be but too soon to carry it into execu- 
tion.” 

Thus the Protestants of Saluzzo were saved ; for 
the reprobation which immediately arose against 
these base butcheries prevented their renewal. 

Amidst the anxiety which the news of these 
massacres occasioned almost everywhere, the Duke 
of Savoy hastened to re-assure the people of the 
Vaudois valleys, by strongly declaring that he rep- 
robated such crimes ; and at Saluzzo also, a 
number of Protestant families, dreading the exe- 
cution of the orders w’hich had been received, took 
refuge with Roman Catholic families, on whose 
kindness they could rely, and who sheltered them 
as brethren till the storm was past. 

Some troubles, however, took place at this time in 
the valley of Perouse, which belonged to France. 
In the midst of this almost universal fury against 
the Protestants, the pastor of St. Germain, Fi^ncis 
Gu4rin, had the courage to undertake, alone and 
unaided, to combat Roman Catholicism by arms 
more terrible and less bloody — those of argument. 
One day he ascended to Pramol, where Popery 
reigned in full strength. It was the Lord’s Day. 
The people were assembled in the church ; the priest 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


81 


celebrated mass. Francis Gu4riu took his place with 
the hearers, and waited in silence till the services 
W’ere terminated. No one suspected that, in that 
crowd of obscure persons was a soldier of the cross, 
who, armed according to the Scriptural expressions, 
with “ the helmet of salvation and the sword of the 
Spirit, which is the word of God,” was speedily, 
with all the power of love and courage, to make 
that word triumphant over the servile forces of 
superstition. 

The priest of Pramol having concluded his 
service, the pastor rose and asked if he had finished. 

“ Yes,” replied the priest. 

“What then is it which you have been doing?” 

“ I have been saying mass.” 

“And what is the mass?” The question was 
put in Latin. There was no reply. Again the 
question was repeated, and this time in Italian. 

“ Be so good as to explain to me what the mass 
is ? demanded the pastor. 

The priest was as silent as before. 

Then the pastor, inflamed with zeal for his God, 
and with ardent and devout compassion for so 
many enslaved souls, ascended the pulpit in the 
midst of an audience dumb with astonishment, and • 
exclaimed : 

F 


82 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


“ Good people, you see by whom you allow your- 
selves to be guided — by a man who does not know 
what he does. He says mass every day, and he 
does not know what the mass is. He feeds you 
with a thing which neither you nor he know any- 
thing about. Come, leave behind you these vain 
superstitions! Souls are too precious to be thus 
trifled with. Behold the Bible,” opening it at the 
same time. “ Listen to the word of God, and you 
shall be saved.” 

The people, excited and motionless, ventured not 
to take any decided course. 

“I do not wish to take anybody by surprise,” 
said the pastor, “ and, to give your priest time to 
prepare his answers, I will return next Lord’s Day 
Meanwhile, pray to God, that he may enlighten 
you, and incline you to receive the truth without 
weakness and without prejudice.” 

Gu4rin then left the church and redescended to 
St. Germain. In the course of the week many of 
the people of Pramol came to him, and opened their 
hearts to him, and asked his advice ; and to each 
he gave a Bible, saying : 

“ There is your best counsellor. Consult it often, 
and you will have no need of other directions.” 

Next Lord’s Day he went up again to Pramol. 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


83 


The concourse of people was much larger. Curi- 
osity, surprise, and a multitude of different emo- 
tions agitated their hearts. The new apostle made 
his way into the church ; the crowd pressed around 
him; he seemed to be already their pastor. But 
the priest did not make his appearance; no one 
presented himself to celebrate or to defend the 
mass. 

“Pastor,” said a voice, “speak of the word of 
God.” 

“ Yes, if you like, I will speak to you.” 

And without delay he proceeded to expound to 
them the great doctrines of salvation. It may 
easily be imagined that they triumphed amid these 
simple and awakened souls, for whom Popery at 
first did not think it worth while to contend with 
the gospel. 

This event passed unobserved in the great 
troubles of the times. The Church of Kome was 
too much intoxicated with the bloody triumphs of 
St. Bartholomew to alarm herself about so petty a 
triumph of faith. But nothing is insignificant 
which concerns the infinite and immortality; and 
the salvation of a soul is of more importance in the 
sight of God than the conquest of a kingdom. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


THE SOLAR 0 FAMILY DRIVEN FROM SALUZZO. 

T he happiness arising from the fact that they 
were still together, was not of long duration. 
The Count of Solaro was a mark against which the 
anathemas of the Papal Church were hurled con- 
tinually. He was the firm supporter of evangelical 
truth ; his influence, in whatever condition he 
might be, was widely felt. His house, poor and 
uncomfortable in comparison with his former home, 
was open to the people. Songs of rejoicing re- 
sounded from that humble hearthstone, while the 
reading of the word strengthened and brought 
comfort to all who listened; and the prayer of 
faith brought healing to broken hearts. 

The Roman Catholic clergy saw with alarm that 
their numbers were steadily growing less. 

“ If such things are allowed,” they said, “ it will 
not be long before the entire couuntry will be 
Protestant.” 

Emissaries were at once sent to Turin, and a few 

weeks later appeared the following edict : 

84 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


85 


“ Having labored, by all possible means, for the 
extermination of heresy, in order to the glory of 
God and the salvation of souls, we are grieved to 
learn that, in the Marquisate of Saluzzo, the people 
whom we have prohibited from the exercise of their 
worship in other places, should be permitted to pro- 
mulgate their heresies, and thus prove a snare to 
the faithful; to prevent the furtherance of this 
evil, we ordain that all the adherents of the pre- 
tended reformed religion, whether born in the 
country or only settled in it, immediately to em- 
brace the Catholic faith, or to leave our dominions, 
under pain of death.” 

Upon the proclamation of this edict, the Vaudois 
drew up a declaration, in order to make known the 
causes of this proscription. 

“ Let all men know, that it is not for any crime 
or rebellion that we are this day deprived of our 
property and our abodes. This happens by reason 
of an edict of abjuration or exile, which his royal 
highness, deceived, no doubt, by false reports, has 
issued against us. But our forefathers and our 
families having been brought up in the doctrine 
professed at this day by the Reformed Church, we 
are resolved to live and die in it. And, therefore, 
we declare and affirm that this doctrine which they 


86 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


would prohibit to us, is held by us to be the only 
true doctrine, the only doctrine approved of God, 
and the only doctrine able to conduct us in the 
way of salvation. And if any one pretend that we 
are in error, far from being obstinate in defending 
it, we profess ourselves ready immediately to abjure 
it, upon our being convinced by the word of God. 
But if it is attempted by mere force and constraint 
to make us change our belief, we prefer rather to 
renounce all that we have, yea, even our lives, 
rather than the salvation of our souls. 

These noble and courageous words ought to have 
gained for the proscribed all the sympathy of gen- 
erous minds. But they exasperated still more the 
Romish clergy, and led them to adopt measures 
that would harass and irritate, if not destroy. 

The Countess of Solaro had suffered much from 
illness, and by the time she reached Lucerna she 
was unable to leave her bed. Hence it was left for 
Octavia and Blanche to care for the wants of the 
household as well as their small means would allow. 
Arnaud still remained with them, and the three 
lads used their opportunities to do what they couid, 
still blessing God for his goodness, and thankful, 
most of all, that they were still permitted to dwell 
together. 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


87 


One evening, when Octavia had been reading to 
the Countess, and had closed her book, in order to 
w^atch in silence the setting of the sun, a woman 
entered with a child in her arms. The sight of so 
many strange faces caused the child to cry, when 
Octavia, reaching out her arms, promised him a 
song. Immediately the baby came to her, and 
beginning to sing, she soon had him fast asleep. 
The mother was grateful. 

“ It has done him good, and it has done me 
good,” she said. “ May we come again, and will 
you sing for us ? ” she asked. 

“ You may come, and I will sing for you,” -was 
the reply. 

“ But are you not afraid ? ” was asked. 

“ Why should I be afraid ? ” Octavia asked, in 
return. “The Bible tells us that we should sing 
when our hearts are heavy.” 

“That is a right word,” answered the woman, 
“ and I know it. Only sometimes my heart is so 
heavy that I cannot sing.” 

“ Then you shall come to us,” said Octavia, “ for 
is it not written, ‘Bear ye one another’s burdens, 
and so fulfill the law of Christ?’” 

“I perceive that you are Vaudois,” said the 
woman, bursting into tears. “ At first I was afraid 


88 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


to come ; but when I learned that some of you 
were sick, and the place strange to you, I felt that 
I must come.” 

After this, the woman brought her friends ; and 
the night found them listening to the Count or to 
Octavia, while the Countess, pillowed in her chair, 
with a smile around her pale lips, and her hands 
clasped, listened silently. The brothers of the 
Count were widely scattered. At times Arnaud 
brought word of them. 

“ It is hard. I cannot deny that it is hard,” he 
would say, as new troubles rolled up in angry 
waves to engulph them. 

“ Not as hard for us as it was for the Lord. We 
must comfort ourselves with this, Arnaud. The 
Master had not where to lay his head. It is not 
yet as bad with us as this” — Octavia would an- 
swer, hoping thus to encourage the old huntsman. 

“ I am not without thinking of these things, and 
I know God can write straight on crooked lines; 
but the bitter is still bitter. When from the other 
side we look at it, it will be different, however;” 
and a look of triumph brightens the rugged face, 
and again Arnaud busies himself in the service of 
those for whom he has so long had to care. 

Upon one occasion, as they were lighting the 


VILLAXOVA-SOLARO. 


89 


torches, Arnaud came from the forest bringing a 
brace of wood ducks, and utterly weary. 

“ What beauties ! exclaimed Blanche. “ A pity 
almost to kill them” — passing her fingers over the 
curiously mottled plumage. 

“ Better than to have you starve,” was said, in a 
voice that showed irritation. 

Blanche looked up with a little hurt expression. 

“ Bless you, girl ! there was no intention to hurt 
you. I was thinking of something else, something 
that troubled me ; and you will think no more about 
it” — he hastened to say. 

“ Of course I knew you did not mean it. I was 
foolish,” cried Blanche, and so joyously that tears 
came into the man’s eyes. 

“ What is it — what has happened ? ” asked Octavia, 
making a way for the huntsman to escape observa- 
tion ; provided that he had anything to say of a 
nature he did not care for all to hear. 

“It is Blanche,” he said, tremblingly. “They 
claim her; but they cannot claim her. And I 
made bold to say as much.” 

“How claim Blanche?” asked Octavia, not 
quite comprehending what had so moved the 
huntsman. 

“ They say her mother was a Roman Catholic, and 


90 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


that she is a De Rovera. And they asked me if 
that was not her name? And her uncle was a 
bishop, and she is related to Julius II., they said. 
And this is the reason they can claim her,’" he 
exclaimed, almost fiercely. 

“We will speak to the Count of this,” returned 
Octavia, with a touch of repressed feeling. “ It 
will be well, perhaps, to make no allusion to it 
before Blanche and the Countess,” she observed. 

“ No, truly not. But I have my eyes open. Let 
me not find them prowling around here. Blanche 
is no Roman Catholic,” came with persisted energy. 

Without having the right to open places of 
worship, the inhabitants of the town had the 
privilege of going to the homes of their brethren, 
and of celebrating family worship, in their own 
houses. They even had it in their power to send 
for the pastors in case of sickness, or in order to 
the funeral service of one of their own religion. 
In this way they soon became acquainted with the 
exiles, and their influence, like a flame, brightening 
as it goes, again brought upon them the ill will of 
those who could not endure the spread of gospel 
truth among the people. 

One day some young people were apprehended 
on their way to Pignerol. It was thought that 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


91 


Blanche de Rovera was one of them. When it 
was discovered that she was not, they were released 
on some simple plea that failed to satisfy those most 
interested in this young girl’s welfare. Subse- 
quently Count Solaro was waylaid, and his life 
would have been taken, but for the prompt assist- 
ance of Arnaud and the young sons of the Count, 
with their arquebuses in their hands. 

“We must give them to understand that we are 
able to defend ourselves, or we must seek another 
home,” said the huntsman, on his return. “And 
for myself I prefer the former.” 

“We must not shed blood,” said the Count, “if 
it is possible to escape doing so. In every man, 
however base he may be, we behold one for whom 
Christ died. Our Lord pardoned a reviler with 
his dying breath. As he taught, so must we 
do.” 

“ It is the right spirit. I sometimes wonder if I 
have it,” said the huntsman, shaking his head. “ I 
try to feel kindly. I think I will ; but the next 
minute I hear of some of their wrong conduct, and 
the sorrow and the suffering they inflict upon 
others; and my heart hardens, and I could do by 
them as they do by others.” 

“God is our avenger. He will repay,” said 


92 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


Octavia. And her words, like oil on the troubled 
waters, brought peace. 

The fires of persecution were lighted, however. 
New annoyances were commenced against the Vau- 
dois. A petition was sent to the Duke of Savoy. 
The Duke replied that he would look into the 
matter. There was nothing he desired more than 
to see his subjects contented But those who sur- 
rounded him were less noble, less just. The Inqui- 
sition threatened. Every now and then travelers 
or foreign merchants were surprised on their jour- 
neys, and cast into dungeons, where they often 
remained without being heard of more. The 
Countess of Gardes suflTered death rather than deny 
her faith. The estate of the Baroness of Termes 
was given to a Roman Catholic, and she was 
exiled. Chilled with this intelligence, and sad- 
dened with the thought of voluntary separation. 
Count. Solaro was arrested, with several other gen- 
tlemen of rank, and conveyed to the Castle of 
Villafranca, after which nothing more was heard 
of them. 

Urgent solicitations were addressed to the Count 
of Lucerna, from whom none but evasive answers 
could be obtained. A petition was then sent to the 
Duke. A person of noble birth offered his inter- 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


93 


vention with the sovereign. It was accepted ; they 
set out and came to Turin. 

“ I have a friend in great favor at court,” said 
their new protector ; “ intrust me with your petition 
to show it to him, and I promise you his support.” 

The petition was given up, but not returned. 
The Vaudois demanded it. 

“You cannot have it without some outlay on 
your part,” was the reply, at the same time stipu- 
lating an amount of money it would be impossible 
for them to pay. Future efforts were made, with 
no better issue. And, at last, it was said that the 
prisoners had been transferred to another castle, 
leaving their friends ignorant of even the place 
where they were incarcerated. 


CHAPTER IX. 

A S0LE3IN COVEIiAET. 


I X order to escape the troubles that threatened 
them, the Vaudois families made haste to 
gather together the things most indispensable for 
subsistence, and to retire with their flocks to the 
fastnesses of the high mountains. The pastors 
everywhere redoubled their zeal and fervor. The 
religious assemblies were never more largely at- 
tended. There was an especial service of fasting 
and prayer. After these solemnities, an extraordi- 
nary celebration of the Lord’s Supper took place, 
which united all the persecuted flock in one act of 
holy fellowship with their persecuted Lord. 

“ Thus without fear or weakness, but encouraging 
one another, did these poor people,” we are told, 
“ prepare with incredible resolution and cheerful- 
ness to receive from the hand of God all the afflic- 
tions to which it might seem good to him to subject 
them. Nothing was to be heard from vale to 
mountain but the psalms and hymns of those 

who transported the sick, the aged, the women and 
94 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


95 


children, to the securest retreats of the rocks; so 
that for days nothing was to be seen but people 
passing and repassing on these rugged paths, dili- 
gently bearing luggage and little articles of furni- 
ture, as in the summer time the ants incessantly 
run and travel hither and thither, storing away 
provisions against the evil days; and among these 
worthy people none regretted his property, so 
resolute were they to await patiently all the plea- 
sure of God.” 

The advice of their pastors had been, not to 
defend themselves by weapons of war, but merely 
to retire to a place where they might be safe from 
attack. 

Their precautions did not save them, however; 
for soldiers were sent to hunt them down without 
mercy. The Vaudois confined themselves to the 
plateaus of the mountains. Many of them had 
only slings and cross-bows for defence. 

The enemy ascended. Evening was come. The 
Vaudois halted on the summit of the Costieres, 
toward Rochemanaut. The enemy paused, and 
kindled their bivouac fires. The mountaineers fell 
on their knees, to give God thanks and to renew 
their prayers. Voluntarily allowing themselves to 
be first attacked by their adversaries, that they 


96 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


might not, even in a single instance, be the ag- 
gressors, they firmly awaited them on the rocks, 
from which a hail storm of stones and balls soon re- 
pulsed the assailants. But the latter returned to 
the charge. The Vaudois resisted them ; the com- 
batants became furious ; the more disciplined troops 
regained the advantage; when suddenly there ar- 
rived from the heights of La Fontanelle fresh 
combatants, by whom a portion of that troop had 
already been repulsed. They joined their brethren, 
who soon again had the best of the combat. The 
enemy gave way and disbanded ; and the Vaudois 
pursued the fugitives, who uttered cries and im- 
precations on those who had caused their rout. 

Hardly had these brave men had time to confer 
together, before a re-inforcement of soldiers came 
up from La Torre, who took the Vaudois in the 
rear. Thus beset, these brave mountaineers faced 
to both sides, forming into two bodies, of which one 
engaged the new-comers, w^hile the other completed 
the rout of the first assailants. This done, the two 
bodies re-united, and, rushing at once upon their 
adversaries, passed through the lines, without leav- 
ing one of their number in their hands. 

The next day a letter was received from the com- 
mander of the soldiers, in which he stated that he 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


97 


was greatly grieved by what his soldiers had done. 
“ It was a mistake,” he admitted ; and concluded 
by proposing an arrangement. 

“As to an arrangement, if it has for its object to 
convince us of error, by discussion and not by 
arms, we willingly agree to it ; but if it be meant, 
that we should sacrifice in it the honor of God and 
the salvation of our souls, it is better for us to die 
all together, rather than consent to it.” 

At the same time when they sent oflT this reply, 
the Vaudois, readily foreseeing what reception it 
would meet with, sent a messenger to their friends 
of Pragela, to entreat them to come to their aid. 

Notwithstanding his words. Count La Trinity did 
not feel obliged to keep faith with heretics; for, 
while negotiations were going on, not only did his 
soldiers attack Villar and Tagliaretto, but, scaling 
the heights of Campo-la-Kama, they endeavored to 
cross the mountain which separates the valley of 
Lucerna from that of Angrogna, in order to gain 
the bottom of the latter, and then to seize upon the 
Pra-del-Tor, to which a great part of the Vaudois 
families had retired. These troops, having set fire 
to some barns, were observed, and were repulsed by 
a valiant combat. 

Pra-del-Tor is the place where the ancient Vau- 
G 


98 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


dois had the school of their Barbas, the secret 
source of those vivifying missions which they sent 
to both extremities of Italy. It is not situated on 
a height, but in a deep recess among the mountains. 
It is the bottom of a valley, savage and austere as 
the peaks of the Alps, remote from observation, 
and free from bustle as a nook of the forest. The 
steep mountain slopes bring down into this deep 
dell the mad waters of the torrent of Angrogna, 
which escapes among the rocks. This verdant 
basin, surrounded with frightful precipices, seems a 
dark crater yaAvning at the feet of the traveler 
who views it from the lofty peaks, and looks like an 
oasis in the desert when he has descended into it. 
A difficult path Avhich winds among and around 
the rocks is the only outlet by which visitors can 
enter, or depart from it. 

The hearts of men are draAvn together by a 
common danger. The valley of Pragela was 
threatened with the same calamities as the valley 
of Lucerna. Then took place one of those 
solemn and impressive scenes Avhich sometimes 
elevate modern times to the level of the ages of 
antiquity, and Avhich seem to be suited rather to 
poetry than to history — a scene at once heroic and 
religious, and, above all, grand in its simplicity. 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


99 


Deputies from the Valley of Felice went to that 
of Clusone, in order to renew before God the cove- 
nant that had always subsisted among the primitive 
churches of the Alps. This covenant was made by 
all the people assembled on a platform of snow, 
over against the mountains of Sestri4res and of 
the chain of Gunivert ; where the Clusone takes its 
rise from the glaciers. The people of Pragela 
likewise sent delegates and pastors to the valley 
of Lucerna. 

Not being able to follow the ordinary route, by 
reason of the troops which would have seized them, 
they traversed mountains rendered almost impass- 
able by the snow which covered them ; climbed 
an ascent, by which they reached Macello; and 
thence again ascending to Prali, crossed the Col 
Julian, in order to proceed to Bobi. 

Upon their arrival they were met by a proclama- 
tion, issued the day preceding, to the effect that 
the inhabitants must, within twenty-four hours, go 
to mass; or endure all the penalties reserved for 
heretics — ^the stake, the galleys, the rock, the 
gibbet, and all the other corollaries of Roman 
Catholicism. This fatal term coincided precisely 
wdth the arrival of the pastors of Pragela. They 
had just arrived at Le Puy, a hamlet of the 


100 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


commune of Bobi, situated on a verdant hill, 
covered with gigantic chestnuts, at a little distance 
from the latter village. 

Without loss of time, the pastor, the elders, the 
deacons, and the members of the church in Bobi, 
and in the surrounding hamlets, mounted the hill 
to Le Buy, in order to make known to their newly- 
arrived friends, the sad extremity to which they 
were reduced ; and there, after fervent prayer 
made to God for his counsel and assistance, an 
enthusiastic resolution was adopted that they should 
defend themselves unto death. From that moment 
dates the most glorious campaign which the heroic 
persecuted ever maintained against fanatical per- 
secution. 

The delegates of Pragela and of the valley of 
Lucerna, standing erect in the crowd, with serious- 
ness that defies description, and voices firm and 
decisive, pronounced these solemn words : 

“ In the name of the Vaudois Churches of the 
Alps, of Dauphiny, and of Piedmont, which are 
all here united, and whose representatives we are, 
we here promise, with our hands upon the Bible 
and in the presence of God, that all our valleys will 
courageously stand by one another in what relates 
to religion, without prejudice to the obedience due 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


101 


to their lawful superiors. We promise to maintain 
the Bible, entire and without admixture, according 
to the usuage of the true Apostolic Church, stead- 
fastly continuing in this holy religion, although it 
should be at the peril of our lives, in order that we 
may be able to leave it to our children intact and 
pure, as we have received it from our fathers. We 
promise aid and success to our persecuted brethren, 
and not to regard individual interests, but the 
common cause, and not to wait upon men, but upon 
God.” 

The term allowed by this summons being already 
past, and the people not acceding to it, the gar- 
rison of Villar marched forth to make prisoners. 
The Vaudois met it on the Avay, repulsed the 
garrison, and pursued it even under the walls of 
Villar. The monks, the judges, the seigneurs, and 
the podestat, who had come thither in order to re- 
ceive the abjuration of the heretics, had scarcely 
time to shut themselves up with the fugitive soldiers 
in the menaced fortress. The Vaudois laid siege 
to it, placed sentinels and posts of observation and 
defence, fortified themselves also in their turn, and 
awaited the progress of events. 

The garrison of La Torre arrived in time to 
deliver the besieged ; the Vaudois routed them in 


102 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


the plain of Teynan. They returned in greater 
force, and underwent the same defeat. The siege 
lasted ten days. The Vaudois made powder for 
themselves, also mines, casemates, engines for 
throwing stones, and loopholes in the neighboring 
houses, in order to shooot over the bastions of the 
citadel. 

The women were as enthusiastic as the men. 
Arnaud the huntsman made himself the leader of 
one of the parties; while Octavia and Blanche 
cared for the wounded, and stimulated the energies 
of the faint-hearted. 

The garrison was speedily reduced to the last ex- 
tremity. It was in want of provisions and of 
ammunition, and was obliged to knead bread with 
wine, for want of water. At last it surrendered, 
upon condition that the lives of the soldiers should 
be spared, and that safe conduct should be given 
them. 

This advantage of the Vaudois caused the Count 
La Trinity to pause and to resolve upon disuniting 
them, in order to destroy them more easily. 

To this effect he sent them promises of peace; 
but these not having the effect to scatter them, he 
brought up all his forces, and availed himself of 
all the resources of strategy. His endeavor was to 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


103 


surprise Pra-del-Tor. This citadel of the Alps 
was defended, not only by its rocks, but also by 
heroic combatants. An attempt was made to enter 
it by Tagliaretto, but the company of Villar 
maintained that passage. The troops advanced in 
three columns, intending to make each an assault at 
the same time. The winding of the ravines, and 
the intricacies of the rocks prevented this. Thfe 
guides got entangled and lost. And, at last, they 
were completely thrown into confusion, and de- 
feated. 

“ Kill them ! kill them ! ” cried the Vaudois, 
excited with the ardor of victory. 

“To your knees! to your knees!” exclaimed the 
pastor. “ Let us give thanks to the God of armies, 
for the success which he has just granted us.” 

To avenge this defeat the soldiers burned the 
houses of Rosa, the families of which place did not 
retire till after a long and vigorous resistance. 

To attain a place of refuge in the valley of Lu- 
cerna, these poor fugitives had to go by the moun- 
tain of Brouard, which was, at that time, covered 
with snow. Night overtook them. They were 
opposite to Villar ; but still at a distance from it, 
though they saw its lights shining on the other side 
of the valley. Their cries, however, were heard ; 


104 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


torches were kindled, and their brethren came to 
meet them. Friendly voices responded to theirs. 
The cries of distress were soon changed into accents 
of joy and deliverance ; sufferers had met with one 
another, and the outlawed had found brethren. 

There was a break in the cloud ; but the storm 
was not spent. 


CHAPTER X. 


ON THE HEIGHTS. 

"PvURING the troublesome times narrated in the 
last chapter, the Countess and her sons were 
not separated; while Octavia and Blanche, from 
following up the contests, were Irequently far from 
each other. In this way, opportunities had offered 
for each to speak words of comfort and cheer to 
those of their own faith with whom they came in 
contact. And not only this ; but not a few of the 
Roman Catholic families, lamenting the injustice, 
and commiserating the suffering, on every side, 
were led to question the purity of a church that 
scrupled not to use such measures, in order to sus- 
tain her bulwarks. 

There was danger in this, however ; and as soon 
as the war cloud opened sufficiently for a rift of 
light to show through, the heroic girls, dressed as 
the peasants of the country, began their march, in 
order to rejoin the Countess. 

The Countess and her boys had found shelter in 

a hut overshadowed by chestnut trees, and with a 

105 


106 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


ravine near, precipitous in many places, and with a 
tangle of vines and dwarfed growth of trees that 
rendered it a place of comparative safety when 
danger threatened. In this retreat, the Countess 
had passed many days, when her sons had been 
sent out by Arnaud, in order to make sure of the 
position of the enemy. 

To this hut the young girls made their way; 
treading the steep paths at night, incommoded by 
rolling stones, and tearing their garments, and 
bruising their hands in their efforts to advance. 

“ I was to go for you/’ said Claude to Octavia, as, 
weary and well nigh exhausted, she appeared before 
him. “We are no longer to remain in the hut. 
There is danger. Arnaud has just come to warn 
us.” 

Faint and hungry, tears came into the beautiful 
eyes, and the next instant were dashed aside. 
Arnaud had been in the hottest of the contest ; she 
must not let him see how weak and foolish she was. 
Blanche was equally guarded. 

“ God has watched over us in all our ways, and 
he will care for us,” was said, cheerfully. 

“ And we are together,” answered Octavia. 

As soon as they were rested a little, Arnaud 
hurried them away. 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


107 


The moon was hidden behind a bank of gray 
clouds, and the path was by no means even. The 
bleating of a lamb was heard as they passed a small 
fold, and Evrard, the youngest of the lads, turned 
beseechingly to the huntsman for permission to go 
back and say “good-by” to Lavit, the little guard- 
ian of the flock. 

“ It will take time, and the soldiers may be even 
now upon our track ; for your mother’s sake, lad, 
we must not stop,” was the reply. 

The Countess was not strong, and the stones 
pierced her feet, and led her to stumble in her walk. 
After midnight a light was seen. As it gleamed 
out, although far away, it was hailed with delight. 
Then another was seen, and finally, a long, uneven 
line of brilliant points. Full well Arnaud under- 
stood the meaning of the lights; and grateful that 
they had been in time, he hurried the small party 
forward without exciting their fears. Climbing 
over the rocks, they came to a grotto, or cavern, 
that showed signs of having been used as a habita- 
tion. 

“ We will rest here,” said the huntsman. And 
at the same time he struck two stones together and 
made a light. A quantity of moss and leaves 
already occupied one side of the cavern, and a jar 


108 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


of water had every appearance of being recently 
filled. 

To be sure that it was not an ambush, Arnaud 
surveyed the place cautiously, then finding nothing 
to arouse suspicion, begged the Countess to rest ; 
while Octavia brought forth the remnant of a black 
loaf and some dried grapes, that had been given 
her by the people from whom she had parted, and 
filling a flask with water from the jar, their table 
was spread. 

“ Give God thanks,” said Arnaud, posting him- 
self behind the Countess. 

The latter glanced over to Octavia. 

The words were simple ; such as children use to 
thank their father for favors unexpectedly given 
them. 

With the simple repast finished, Arnaud 
wandered farther away, to see if danger lurked in 
the rocks by which they were surrounded. When 
he returned the day was drawing near, and consid- 
ering the state they were in, he determined to 
watch while the rest should sleep. Octavia saw 
that this was needful for the Countess; and with 
gentle persuasiveness she prevailed upon her to 
leave herself in the keeping of God, and rest as a 
tired child rests on the bosom of its mother. 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


109 


“ He will not fail us,” she said, sweetly. “ When 
it is dark, he will see for us. And he it is who can 
scatter our enemies.” 

Blanche, likewise, and the lads laid down to 
slumber, feeling that the hand over them was love. 
When all was at rest, Octavia went out to Arnaud, 
and discussed the route they must take, and the 
possibility of finding out where the Count was im- 
prisoned. 

“If we take the direction of St. Martin,” said 
Arnaud, “ we must go by the way of Col-du-Lis — 
the most difficult route ; but the safest, perhaps.” 

“If God has spared him, Valerio may be there, 
and Bartholomew. The hope of meeting them will 
give us all courage,” was the reply. 

“To undertake such a journey, requires rest,” 
said the huntsman, with that peculiar quality of 
voice that denotes responsibility. 

More to please the kind-hearted man, than from 
any desire to sleep, Octavia entered the cavern, and 
threw herself down on the soft moss. When she 
opened her eyes, she was surprised to find the sun 
sifting through a crevice in the rock, and Blanche 
already awake. The sound of voices awoke the 
Countess, and starting up with a low cry ; 

“ Have they followed us ? ” she asked. 


110 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


“ They would have found it difficult to do that, 
your grace,” answered the huntsman, who himself 
had not taken a wink of sleep. 

“Was the path really so hard to keep? I felt 
that it was,” she continued. 

“ Do you feel able for another clamber over the 
rocks ? Possibly we can stop on the way. There 
are views among the mountains that will repay us 
for making the ascent,” said Arnaud — not without 
a swift glance into the pale face of the lady who 
w^as doing her best not to break down. 

“ I have slept, and I am refreshed ; and with the 
light we can pick our way,” was said, cheerfully. 

A few grapes, and a cup of water, was all that 
they could allow themselves. 

“We may find some small game,” said Arnaud ; 
“ and with the bread, we can then make a meal.” 

It was a prudent arrangement; and the lads 
pulled at the grapes, and quaffed the water wdth a 
satisfaction that went far to encourage their mother. 

The sun was rounded out and full when they 
turned their backs upon the cavern. Octavia was 
the first to step out into the fresh morning air. It 
was both aromatic and exhilarating. She breathed 
in full draughts. She gazed around her with de- 
light. 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


Ill 


“ So much of God up here ! ” she breathed out. 

Blanche and the Countess were filled with a 
peculiar desire to carry away such a picture of 
the scene as would enable them to recall it at any 
time. Below them, soft, gray clouds were floating, 
the gray changing into gold, and then tinged by a 
flash of red, spreading ever higher and higher; 
while far in the distance, like a dark immeasurable 
flood, all still lay in gloom. Now, however, rugged 
heights and broad mountain ridges began to 
emerge ; other summits were free, but their bases 
still lay in gloom, which was fast changing into soft, 
grayish tints. More glowing ' and more widely 
spreading became the rosy flush on the sky, and 
more and more boldly the giant mountains stood 
forth, bathed in purple and gold. 

“ So much of God up here ! ” whispered Octavia. 

“ So much of God,” was the echo ; and the spell 
was broken. 

As the little party advanced, an antelope, that 
was grazing near the path, raised her head, and 
then bounded away. Claude drew his bow to his 
shoulder. 

“ Not now, lad ! ” said the huntsman. “ Possibly 
we may come upon another, and a cup of milk will 
be refreshing.” 


112 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


Birds were flying through the air, and glittering 
vapors rose from trees and grass. Beautiful as it 
was, there was a chill ; the Countess felt it, a blue 
line showed under her eyes, and her teeth chattered. 

“We must walk faster,” said the huntsman. “It 
will warm the blood, and when the sun climbs 
higher we can rest and' look about us.” 

While Arnaud was rejoiced to find that Octavia 
could forget the destruction that threatened them, 
in her reverence and admiration of the works of 
God, he trembled in view of the delay ; hence his 
efibrts to hasten, without arousing useless fear. 

As the day advanced, the paths grew more intri- 
cate ; while the winds whistled around them, and a 
cold, drizzling rain set in. A halt was called, and 
the poor Countess sunk fainting to the ground. 
Perplexed, they were not discouraged. 

“ The hand of God is in it! ” said Arnaud. “ We 
are not to go further this day.” And at once he 
began to seek a place of shelter for the night. 
After searching carefully for a sheltering rock, or 
cavern, he returned with a brightened countenance. 
A few steps found them descending by a series of 
broad, natural steps into a little dell, walled in on 
three sides, and festooned with vines, the roots of 
which were fastened in the soil above. 


VILL ANOVA-SOLARO. 


129 


to-day. I will learn how to make cakes. I will be 
useful.” 

“ Like the Lord, going about doing good,” said 
Octavia, smiling through tears. 

“ Not that I am sure of doing well. It is a trial, 
and at any moment something may come to drive 
us from our hiding place,” continued the Countess. 

“ I do not think that our thoughts should run in 
this channel. God is able and willing to give us 
the best things. He will not let us slip from his 
hand,” returned Octavia. 

“ If one could only remain in the possession of 
one’s best. But I very often grow depressed, and 
feel myself forsaken and helpless. I have daily 
tried to overcome this feeling,” begun the Countess. 

“And the earnest effort to overcome will bring 
victory,” said Octavia. “We do not reach the 
heights at a bound. And the delight makes us 
forget the weariness of the way.” 

“ I am to try. I am to begin to-day,” said the 
Countess, with emphasis. 


I 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE HUNTSMAN TAKES HIS DEPABTUBE. 
INTER is coming earlier than usual,” An- 



* ' drew said, as he came from the vineyard, 
with three clusters of luscious grapes in his hand. 
At once he laid them before the Countess. 

“ You are welcome to as many as you like, only 
these are the nicest. They grew so high, and they 
have had the sun. I had to climb to get them.” 

The Countess would rather not have received the 
grapes ; but she knew, in that case, Andrew would 
feel hurt. So she thanked him for giving her the 
best, and said that she had once read of a way to 
keep grapes fresh, and she would try and think of 
it ; such delicious clusters in the winter would be a 
great treat. 

“As it is, we have to dry them,” said Andrew. 
“\Ye will begin to heat the ovens to-morrow, and 
when they are dried, they can be packed away.” 

The Countess was taking more interest in the 
house, and in the surroundings. Arnaud had gone 
into the valley, and he was one to understand 


130 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


131 


things. He would learn, without exchanging many 
words, what the governor was thinking of, and 
what he was about to do. She had not before 
thought that she could live without Arnaud ; now 
she was rejoiced to have him away. 

Cold winds swept the heights, and the sunshine 
on the rocks had a faint, white light. Leaves 
whisked through the air — purple and red and 
brown and gold — filling the paths and flutteiung up 
to the windows, like birds mutely asking shelter 
and warmth. There were days when the clouds 
massed, and then broke and rolled away, like ships 
with great black hulls, driven and tossed by the 
winds. 

It required all Octavia’s strength now to climb 
over the rocks and keep the path to the hamlet. 
Sometimes there was sleet and snow in the air, and 
as it fell it congealed ; and, when the sun came out, 
the rocks were dazzlingly white, and she had to 
slip along without daring to raise her feet. 

On such days the lambs were not suffered to 
leave the fold. Even Mina, who found it difficult 
to keep quiet, was forced to content herself with 
just a scamper up to the door, for the sake of eat- 
ing from the hand of the Countess. Evrard had a 
great love for Mina. 


132 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


“ It is right for me to think more of Mina than I 
do of either of the others,” he would say. *‘If 
Mina had not run away that day, what would have 
become of us ? And now I am to be kind to her ; 
and every morning you must keep something of the 
best you have” — looking brightly into his mother’s 
face. 

Every day Claude and Louis went to the wood 
and collected faggots for the winter fires ; while the 
gathering of the people in the hamlet for religious 
worship was not forgotten by Andrew and Oc- 
tavia. 

“It was his last word,” Andrew said to Octavia, 
referring to Lentulus. “He said, that you could 
get to the hamlet, and you would do it. And I 
must see that the paths were kept open. It’s now, 
perhaps, more than at other seasons, when the 
people like to hear a good word. I have often seen 
how they brightened a bit when you read to them — 
especially the sick ones. It’s different shut up in 
their houses — and some of them are smoky, and 
there’s a cold, cheerless look — to what it is when 
they can get out on the rocks, and the sun shines 
brightly ; and it is all so wonderful, and so easy to 
think of God.” 

Octavia turned with a smile. It was a long 


VILLA NO VA-SOLAEO. 


133 


speech for Andrew to make, and evidently he was 
speaking from his own experience. 

“ Doubtless it is harder for the people,” she said 
to herself, as Andrew seemed to think that he had 
been too free, perhaps, and lapsed into silence. 
And thus her visits were more frequent and tender ; 
thoughtful words more lovingly dropped into their 
hearts, just when the gloom was the deepest. 

Andrew Monteil was likewise a wood-carver. 

“I cannot do this,” Octavia said, as she followed 
him with her eyes, and saw how dexterously he 
used his knife. “ Do you sell them ? ” she asked, as 
she examined the pretty carvings he brought forth, 
as some that he had done previously. 

“ I used to sell them before these terrible times 
came upon us. Now the colayers exchange them 
for us when they can, without being robbed by our 
enemies.” 

Susanna had always a good word. 

“ It is something to be thankful for, a good home 
and a good fire. Then the carvings come in, and 
the flames leap up, and something within me keeps 
singing, ‘ The great God is so good to me ! * And I 
fold my babies in my arms, and look long at the 
fire, and think that the lambs are all sheltered, and 
the people in the hamlet are not any of them sick ; 


134 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


and there sits Andrew, the best man in the world. 
And I am his wife.” 

Octavia knew how to listen. It was different 
with the Countess; and so it had been arranged 
that a fire should be put into the mother’s room, 
and the lady could have her own family quite to 
herself when she liked. 

The wood-carving always led to pleasant dis- 
course. With Octavia for a listener, Andrew re- 
lated many incidents of the time when he learned 
to fashion the wood ; the trees he sought out ; and 
the long walks he had taken in order to select the 
proper color and quality; following the grain and 
designing ; and at last polishing and giving a fine 
finish. 

“ It is the way God leads us, I think ” — lifting 
himself a little from his work. “ He just gives us 
the things to do with, and then we must work it 
out. Such a thought of his love comes to me at 
times; especially in the spring, when the grass 
shows itself on the rocks, and the sheep take to 
the heights. Mina is always quick to go, and 
many is the time I have watched to see her turn 
around and look and bleat, and expect me to follow. 
I think it’s the confidence she puts in me. And all 
the time she is running away.” 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


135 


These were new thoughts for Octavia. This 
man, whose life had been passed in the mountains, 
could analyze and understand many things that 
others failed to learn. Where did he get such 
wisdom ? Who had been his teacher ? 

Susanna did not carve. When her children were 
asleep and warmly tucked in bed, she drew her 
chair still nearer her husband and began to knit. 

“ I never used to knit,” she said, to Octavia. “ I 
had a mother to do that ; you should see her stock- 
ings. I will show them to you some day ; and they 
wore well and were warm. As long as one has a 
mother to knit, there is comfort. Andrew knows 
that I try. But I cannot do just as mother 
could.” 

The carving was going on, and Susanna sitting 
near, was knitting silently. Octavia found the 
wood hard, and her knife slipped. 

“ It is not wise to do any more to night,” said 
Susanna. “ When the knife slips, it is a bad sign ; 
and the best thing is to put it up.” 

“ What is it a sign of? ” asked Octavia. 

“I will knit into the middle of my seam needle, 
and then I will put up my work; mother used 
always to do so. Knit to the middle of the seam 
needle and then fold up your work,” was the 


136 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


woman’s reply, without seeming to notice the ques- 
tion asked. 

Before the knitting and the carving was put aside, 
steps were heard on the frozen snow, and a muffled 
knocking followed on the outer door. Andrew has- 
tened to open it. A man stood there muffled in a 
huge bear skin, but whether friend or enemy, he 
could not say. 

“ I lost my way, I think, and the goods went 
rolling down the precipice, and I had something for 
you ” — was said in a familiar voice. 

“It is Jacob the colayer!” cried Susanna. 
“Come in, Jacob” — running forward and drawing 
the colayer inside. “ Who would have thought of 
your losing your way ? Take his coat, Andrew, and 
let him feel the fire ; fire is a good thing for him.” 

Octavia had run away with the first sound of the 
stranger’s voice. She was afraid the Countess 
w'ould hear the knocking and be alarmed. Then 
possibly it was Arnaud ; or was it ? Her heart was 
beating violently. A moment she leaned against 
the door; then opened it and went in, with all 
her old, quiet, unobtrusive manner. The Countess 
had not heard anything; neither had the others. 
Claude had been reading aloud. They were now 
sitting carelessly and gazing into the fire. 






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ViUarova-Solaro 


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VILLANOVA-SOL.AEO. 


137 


Octavia spoke of her carving, and said that the 
knife had slipped ; adding with a smile : 

“ Susanna said it was a bad sign.” 

“ A bad sign ! ” exclaimed the Countess. 

“ Susanna always has a sign for everything. Of 
course, some of them must be bad signs,” said 
Octavia, laughing. 

“There is not much in a sign. Do you think 
there is much in a sign ? ” asked Evrard. 

“I do not believe in signs; but to listen gives 
pleasure to Susanna, and it does not harm us,” was 
the reply. 

“I have noticed that the people are alike in 
this,” added Louis. “ I stumbled on the threshold 
the other day. Mark said if I had been going out 
of the hut, instead of coming in, it would have 
been a bad sign.” 

The Countess was not superstitious ; but the con- 
versation recalled to her remembrance certain of 
her dreams about Arnaud since he left the moun- 
tains, and timidly she repeated one that had made 
a deep impression upon her mind, and of which she 
had not before spoken. 

“Doubtless you fell asleep thinking of him,” 
Octavia ventured to say, seeing that Evrard was 
drinking in every word. 


138 


VILLANOVA-SOLAKO. 


“It was so, I think; and naturally I dreamed 
of him. But such things are not pleasant. I can- 
not say that I quite like them.” 

It was late. Octavia had not mentioned the ar- 
rival of the stranger. It was better, perhaps, that 
she should not. Still, there was a hope that 
Arnaud might be heard from; and dropping her 
knife carelessly, she took advantage of the fact 
of its point piercing the hard flooring and standing 
erect to say : 

“ Susanna’s sign for a stranger to appear. Let 
us sleep, and dream that a stranger is coming with 
no ill news for us,” she said. 

The voice was bright and animated. The “ good- 
night” was full of promised rest. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

ABNAUD HEABD FROM. 

QiUSANNA piled on fresh faggots, and Andrew 
^ helped Jacob oflP with his bear-skin coat; 
although so chilled and half-frozen was the man, 
that he could not speak for the chattering of his 
teeth. The fire crackled and hissed, and went 
roaring up the chimney. Andrew was for leaving 
the colayer to sleep; but Susanna said nothing 
could be worse. She had often heard her mother 
say, that when one is cold and frozen he must not 
sleep. 

“ First we must give him hot tea. I have it in 
the pitcher, and it will soon be ready,” she said. 
“ Then we must rub him into a glow, and after that 
he will sleep.” 

“ In that case we will begin,” said Andrew, “ for 
it looks to me as if sleep was coming along on a 
hundred feet.” 

Susanna had a way of keeping people awake. 
She now began to chatter like a magpie. 

“ So you lost your way, Jacob ! A strange thing 

139 


140 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


for one who has been here before,” she said, laugh- 
ing heartily as she spoke. 

“ I lost the path, I should have said,” answered 
the man, beginning to feel the effect of the rubbing. 

“The path! That is more like it. I am glad 
you thought of us. The head-forester’s house is 
still here. He is not here ; only Peter, the wood- 
man, is left to see to things. You are to go there, 
perhaps.” 

“ Not this time,” replied the man. 

“And you have things for us?” asked Susanna, 
not at all troubled at the man’s disinclination to 
speak of himself. 

In spite of the fire and the rubbing and the hot 
drink, Jacob was half asleep, and feeling about for 
his pack. 

“Now I remember, it rolled down the precipice. 
I saw it, and I tried to go after it, and my limbs 
were stiff, and dropping off to sleep. 

The next morning it was a late hour before the 
colayer could rouse himself. Meantime, Andrew 
had slid down the precipice, and, by the aid of 
ropes, pulled by Claude and Louis, standing in the 
path above, the poor man’s pack was brought to 
him. 

While they were doing this, the colayer was 


VILLANOVA-SOLAKO. 


141 


eating his breakfast, and at the same time talking 
as glibly with Susanna as she could have wished. 

“ I saw him, and he said I would find them here. 
And he gave me a letter,” said Jacob, while he 
swallowed a cup of black coffee and ate the cakes 
with a relish. 

“Now you are talking in riddles. Who was it 
that you met, and whom did you think to find 
here? Speak out! We are plain, free spoken 
folks.” 

“ Of course I of course ! I mean no offence,” was 
said, humbly. 

“Then you have nothing for us?” Susanna 
asked, with a little hurt look creeping over her 
face. 

“ I didn’t say that, and I didn’t mean it. I have 
something for the last carvings, and I have a letter 
for some folks in your house. I think it is the one 
I saw last night. I was so cold. But I saw her, and 
she’s not like another. He said she was not like 
another.” 

“ I know I my mother used to say it takes a 
woman to know, and you have been so long getting 
it out. It is Arnaud, the huntsman, you’ve seen, 
and you’ve brought a letter. Octavia will be glad, 
and so will the Countess.” 


142 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


“ Yes, that’s the name, Octavia. I did my very 
best to think of it. Now I’ll repeat it, Octavia, and 
you’ll forgive the blunder,” glancing appealingly 
into the woman’s face. 

Before she could answer, Andrew came through 
the door and set the merchant’s pack down beside 
the fire. 

“ Now we shall have it I ” exclaimed Susanna. 

“ It ! ” said Andrew, laughing. 

“ It’s a letter, and it’s for Octavia, and will make 
them all happy, I hope.” 

The lads had heard enough. There was a letter. 
Amaud was still living. There had been a con- 
test. The colayer had been in it, and now he was 
here. 

“It was this way,” the colayer began. “The 
order was that all the Bibles must be burned ; and 
if one should be found in any house after such a 
time, the house should be burned, and the people 
who persisted should be sent to the galleys. The 
soldiers attacked us; the huntsman made himself 
leader ; we drew them into a narrow defile ; and the 
rocks being slippery from a late fallen snow, we 
were able to defeat them. And what is better, the 
Bibles they did not find ; for we had them hidden 
away in the rocks; and after the fight, although we 


VILLANOYA-SOLAEO. 


143 


had gained the victory, we did not think it best to 
leave them there. Thus it was that I ventured 
to bring them up with the goods,” he said ; “ and to 
lose them, as I did last night, made me feel almost 
as though God had forsaken me.” 

“ But he had not ; he never does ; you are here ! ” 
cried Susanna, drying her eyes on her apron at the 
same time. “If the pack had fallen where you 
could have reached it, you would have frozen, 
perhaps. No! God never forsakes us; one must 
never at any time say that.” 

The letter consisted of fragments; names of 
persons who had suffered tortures inflicted, and 
others who had been sent to prison. Octavia 
prepared to listen to Jacob. The Countess was 
already in tears, and Blanche had heard names 
called, and knew that many of her old companions 
chose to suffer rather than deny their faith. 

“ God has been good to us, and we are here,” she 
whispered to the Countess. 

There was no reply. Arnaud had gone out to 
find some clue with regard to the Count. He had 
found none. It was evident he had yet found 
none. 

“ I think we should be thankful that Jacob got 
through. It was no easy thing,” said Andrew. 


144 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


“And Arnaud is alive, and it is no worse with us 
than it was,” ventured Claude. 

“ But our father ! ” said Evrard, who could not 
longer contain himself. 

“We must wait,” whispered Octavia, not daring 
to trust herself to say more. 

A bit of parchment fell to the floor. The lad 
sprang to pick it up. 

“ It is closely written,” he said to Octavia. 

“Yes,” she answered, letting her eyes run over 
the parchment, while a ghastly pallor settled over 
her features. 

“ You remember our old friend, Francis Garde ? ” 
she asked, as if to give herself time to speak 
firmly. 

“Certainly we remember him, and his aunt, 
the Countess. Did he share in the misfortunes 
attending the house of Carde?” Blanche asked, 
anxiously. 

“As the prot4g4 of the Duke of Savoy, he was 
able to escape for a time; but Rome has means, 
and treachery devised a way. Our poor friend 
was broken on the wheel,” continued Octavia, in a 
voice full of emotion. 

A low sobbing filled the room. Susanna was the 
first to speak : 


VILLA NOVA-SOLARO. 113 

An exclamation of surprise burst from each of 
the small group. 

“ Why need we be troubled ! God cares for us,” 
said Octavia. 

“ Still, we are troubled ; and every time, I think 
I never will be again,” answered Blanche. “ God 
does not make the bridge till we arrive at the 
river.” 

“He knows when we try,” said Evrard, the 
youngest of the Count’s sons. “ My father told me 
that many times.” 

The allusion to the Count drew tears from the 
eyes of the Countess. To divert his mother, Claude 
began to examine the rocks, raising the vines, and 
in some places dislodging small stones. Presently, 
he cried out : 

“ Look I What an ample chamber.” 

With vines drawn back in his hands, like a cur- 
tain let down from above, he stoood to let them 
pass. They were standing in a large mural cham- 
ber, dimly lighted from an orifice above — rather, 
several orifices — the light coming dowu, giving the 
effect of stars. Surprise and awe filled their hearts. 
There was no word, or cry. Then dropping to 
their knees, with uncovered heads, silent prayer 
was oflTered. 


H 


114 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


After this, leaves were scraped up, and such moss 
as they could gather. Early in the day, some small 
birds had been snared. These were roasted; and 
with the remnant of black bread, a meal was fur- 
nished. The fire sent a measure of warmth through 
the chamber. The Countess slept ; and, on waken- 
ing, was able to rise. 

“ I think we should go on,” she said. 

“ Not to-night,” returned the huntsman. “ God, 
who brought us here, will not let us starve.” 

“ We could do very well, if we had a goat from 
Lavit’s flock,” said Evrard. 

“ We saw one yesterday, and we may find one to- 
day,” said Octavia. Then pressing up to the hunts- 
man: “Why not live here?” she whispered. 
“ Here there is peace. I begin to forget the suffer- 
ing through which we have come.” 

“ It is possible that we may find a hamlet if we 
go still further. To find food here and to rely 
upon game would be perilous. Besides, soldiers 
can climb,” he said, at the same time sending a 
furtive glance in the direction of the opening. 

The lads, meanwhile, made a snare, and then 
flung themselves down on the short herbage to 
watch it. Presently a hare shot across the path 
and escaped. 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


115 


There must be another ! ” cried Evrard, a little 
disturbed at the idea of losing his supper. 

Arnaud’s suggestion that soldiers could climb, 
produced a feeling of danger in Octavia’s breast. 
Thinking it cruel to alarm the Countess, however, 
she made a feint of finding a flower said to grow on 
the heights, and in this way kept watch without 
the fear of being questioned. 

Before the darkness set in, the lads came run- 
ning to say that they had heard a lamb bleating. 
Arnaud went with them. They did not find any 
trace, neither could they again hear the bleating. 

Octavia clung to the rock, so that she seemed 
only a part of it, and gave herself up to quiet re- 
flection. It was the same sun sinking to rest, that 
she had seen rise in the morning. He had made 
his journey, and now he was to sink behind the 
horizon, only to rise on the other side. Countless 
human beings had seen him, as he made his 
splendid course, and countless others, incarcerated 
in prisons and noisome dungeons, had longed just 
for one ray of sunshine to light their gloom. In 
thinking of her brothers, especially the Count, of 
whose fate she was still ignorant, it seemed that she 
must speak aloud. 

“ God made the sun and hung it in the blue 


116 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


arch. It rises and sets. We are the creatures of 
his hand. He made us. More than this, his Son 
died for us. We are his. What a comforting 
assurance! His grasp is strong; neither can any 
one pluck us from his hand.” 

A soft, gray film was creeping up from the 
depths below. A sea of molten gold was sup- 
ported on the distant horizon ; and in the midst of 
this sea was a flashing orb. 

“ Thus day sinks into the arms of night ! and we 
fade into eternity,” she whispered. 

At that instant, a man’s head was lifted above 
an opposite rock, and the next a shepherd’s 
crook was planted upon the shallow earth above, 
and without manifest fear, he stood erect but a few 
yards from the young girl. 

Assured that it was not a soldier, Octavia ac- 
costed him frankly. The sound of voices brought 
Arnaud. The man gave his name — Andrew 
Monteil. He was living in a hut not far away. 
One of his sheep had escaped, and he was come up 
the heights to find it. 

“God be praised!” cried Arnaud. “You are 
Vaudois, and you live here quietly?” 

“ Thus far God has kept us ; while our brethren 
have suffered,” was the reply. 




VlUanova-Solaro 


Page 11 









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VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


117 


The lads came to say that they had heard a 
lamb bleating; but could, not find it. With 
Arnaud and the lads, Andrew proceeded along 
the ledges calling his sheep by name, and, whist- 
ling at intervals, a slow, pitiful air. Presently an 
answering cry was heard, followed by an unmis- 
takable bleat. The sheep was found wedged be- 
tween two rocks, where it was impossible for it to 
free itself. 

The shepherd was in raptures. 

“It would have been such a death,” he said. 
“And I have found it,” dropping his words, and 
taking the lamb in his arms. “ My little children 
cried when they learned that Mina had strayed from 
the fold. And now they will rejoice.” 

“ If Mina had not strayed we should not have 
found you,” said Octavia. “ It was God’s way of 
leading us.” 

“ That is a true word,” said the shepherd. “And 
now, if you can take up with our poor fare, you are 
welcome. We read the Book, and we bring up our 
two children to obey God.” 

Before they reached the hut, the shepherd’s wife 
came out to meet them. 

“Rejoice with me! I have found my sheep,” 
said the shepherd ; then, turning to the exiles, he 


118 


VILLANOVA-SOLAKO. 


presented his family, and asked his wife’s good 
offices for the strangers. 

“You are welcome to such as we have,” she said, 
dropping a curtesy, according to her habit. “ Our 
fathers lived in the valley. When we were chil- 
dren they were driven here, rather than renounce 
their faith in God, and that form of worship which 
was theirs. Boudrina is a pretty hamlet, and is 
near us. You can see it by daylight,” she said, 
pleasantly. 


CHAPTER XL 


NEW FRIENDS ON THE MOUNTAIN. 

rriHE hamlet of Boudrina, situated upon the 
ledges of projecting rocks, at the summit of a 
very steep slope, was not unlike the eyrie of an 
eagie in its approaches. With the first sunlight, the 
three lads, Claude, Louis, and Evrard, were awake, 
and anxious to know just how everything looked 
around the hut. They were so eager, that they could 
hardly wait for the huntsman to say to them that it 
was time to get up. 

“ I think we might venture to act for ourselves 
this time,” said Louis. “Arnaud complained of 
his wound yesterday, and he was lame ; anyway it 
hurt him, I know ; only he would not say it.” 

“Then you should not say it either,” answered 
Claude. “ When one has the wish to hide anything, 
it is unkind to bring it into notice.” 

“I had not the wish to be unkind,” returned 

Louis, with a little hurt feeling. “Only, that 

Arnaud might be inclined to rest a little later than 

119 


120 


VTLLANOVA-SOLARO. 


usual this morning, and we could venture out by 
ourselves.” 

“We can ask him ! ” exclaimed Claude, as the 
old hunter stood before them. 

“Are you lame this morning?” asked Evrard, 
running up and seizing his hand. 

“ Not so lame but that I can venture to go on 
the rocks with you,” was the good-natured reply. 

“ I would like to know if Andrew has more sheep 
than Lavit had. And Mina! Just think, if she 
had not lun away yesterday ! ” said the lad, with a 
face full of seriousness. 

The small fold was hedged in by a strong wall, 
and there were vines ; and the vines made a vine- 
yard ; and there were props, and clusters of grapes 
could be plainly seen. For want of something else 
to say, Evrard asked if the grapes would ripen. 

“They will ripen if left to themselves,” said 
Arnaud, with a laugh. 

“But they are so far up the mountain,” came 
stoutly. 

“ The sun shines warmly on the ledges ; that is 
just the place for grapes, I would say,” exclaimed 
Louis. 

“ It is too near heaven for our enemies to find us. 
I wish my father was here,” continued Evrard. 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


121 


They were standing quite at the entrance of the 
enclosure before they discovered that Andrew and 
his wife were already at work there. The purple 
of the vineyard was broken by lances of glittering 
gold. 

“A good morning,” said Susanna, coming forward 
with her hands full of green leaves. “ We made 
no noise, and the children I hushed to rest. We 
wanted you to sleep. Next to sunlight, sleep is the 
best thing the good God gives us,” she added. 

“We have slept, and it is day; and we want to 
see things,” said Evrard. 

The woman laughed heartily. 

“ It is always the way ; children speak out when 
they want anything. It is a good way ; ” and she 
laughed, and showed her white, even teeth. Just 
then it struck Arnaud that Susanna was a very 
good-looking woman. 

Octavia was standing in the door when they ap- 
proached the hut, and behind her, the pale face of 
the Countess was seen. Blanche was in the act of 
throwing a blue shawl over her shoulders. 

Susanna threw down the green leaves and hast- 
ened up the path. 

“ You have slept, and now you are awake,” she 
said ; “ take care ! ” as they stepped over the thresh- 


122 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


old. ‘^Let your first look be to the east. My 
mother was a wise woman ; the room at the end of 
the house, where you slept, was built for her. 
Every morning, her first look was to the east, and 
it was a blessing to her. And when she was sick, 
and too feeble to walk, Andrew carried her chair 
and set it so that her eyes could look to the east. 
It is a good thing ; the day is always better when it 
begins in that way.” 

“ I am sure you are right in this, and your mother 
was right,” said Octavia. “ To see the sun rise, is 
to see a new creation. It is beautiful. Everything 
is beautiful in the mountains.” 

Susanna even ventured to take the hand of the 
Countess. 

“You are feverish! I was sure of it,” she said, 
feelingly. “ My mother understood about herbs. 
She told me the use of them ; and we have them in 
the hut the year round. We are never sick.” 

Andrew came up with a smiling countenance. 

“ God has given us a good day,” he said ; “ and 
you are up in time to see the sun as he comes from 
behind the mountain. It is a sight to make one 
think of God, and thank him too. There are 
people who never see the sun rise, and it makes 
them cruel.” 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


123 


Susanna had gone into the hut, but she soon 
came out and announced breakfast. The table was 
spread with flat cakes, just baked, and a kind of 
porridge made of dried grapes and flour. There 
were stools to sit on, and the Countess had the 
mother’s chair. They stood around the table while 
Andrew asked a blessing; then took their places. 
The cakes were eaten with relish, and the porridge 
was so nice that the bowl had to be refilled. 

“ The next best thing to sleep is to eat,” said Su- 
sanna. “ One must eat and one must sleep. It is 
easier to honor God and deal justly when one does 
these things.” 

After breakfast Andrew led his flock to a narrow 
plane, and let them feed on the short grass, and 
frisk in the sunshine. Keturning, he surprised 
Arnaud and the Countess holding a conference 
under the trees. 

“ We have a long journey before us, and we are 

not sure ” the Countess said to Andrew; but 

she could not go on. 

“ God has brought you to us, and I cannot feel 
that he wants you to leave us hastily,” ventured 
Andrew. “ It is a time of trouble. If you can be 
contented with us, you are welcome.” 

Susanna joined her husband in this invitation, 


124 


VILLANOVA-SOLAHO. 


and thus the mother’s room was open for the chil- 
dren to pass in and out. 

“We have kept it shut ; and now you are in it, 
it will be better for all of us,” Susanna said. 

The hamlet consisted of a few families who kept 
up the habit of meeting together for prayer and re- 
ligious conversation. Formerly they had a stated 
pastor; but since the trouble in the valleys, only 
occasional service was held by the pastor. 

The first Lord’s Day after the exiles had taken 
up their abode with Andrew Monteil, Scipio Len- 
tulus was with them. As foreign-born, he had been 
restricted to holding service as regular pastor. 
Finding it was the Countess Solaro who had lately 
arrived at the hamlet, he came at once to visit 
her. 

“ Is it possible ! ” he exclaimed, with his fine 
eyes full of tears. “For your castle you have 
these rocks ! ” Then sending his gaze outward : 
“ His presence is felt here. On these heights there 
is peace.” 

“We can breathe the free air of heaven. I am 
thankful ; and still, I am troubled about my hus- 
band. Have you any tidings of him ? ” she asked. 

It was pitiful to look into the white, pinched face, 
and listen to the pleading accents of the lady who 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


125 


had not a reasonable hope of meeting her husband 
again in this world. 

“ What we know not now we shall know here- 
after,” was said in a tone of sympathy that swept 
the heart of the Countess with healing influences. 

“ I try to look forward. I would follow my 
husband to prison and to death, gladly; but my 
boys hold me,” was said tenderly. 

“My sister, I know how you feel. It is hard. 
I feel that it is hard. But it is the will of your 
Father, and of my Father. Heavy as the burden 
is, it is nothing to the cross he laid upon the 
shouldei-s of his beloved Son. Look at the poor, 
pale face, marred with grief more than other men, 
and listen to his loving words : ‘ Father, not my 

will, but thine be done.^ ” 

The angel of consolation was there; and the 
white face of the Countess shone with the healing 
of his touch. 

Octavia found delight in visiting the families in 
the hamlet, and reading with them the evangelists. 
In this way she had the opportunity of doing a 
good work, and her own heart was strengthened 
and encouraged. Not unfrequently she gathered 
the children on the sunny slopes, and taught them 
to honor God and respect their fellows. Thus 


126 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


the days passed by, and the autumn was fast 
approaching. 

In tending the flock, and in the care of the 
vineyard, the lads made themselves helpful ; while 
Arnaud was successful in bringing in game. And 
not alone this ; but he was quick to gather all pos- 
sible intelligence with reference to the acts of the 
governor, and the work of the soldiery in the 
valleys. Keturning one night with his game-bag 
hanging limp on his shoulders, he was met by 
Octavia and Blanche, with saddened faces. 

“The Countess is indeed very ill,” they said. 
“ She had a dream, in which she plainly saw the 
headless body of her husband. We cannot console 
her. She feels that he is dead.” 

“It is most probable,” returned the huntsman. 
“Castrocaro has caused more arrests. We should 
not be safe, if he surmised that we were here.” 

“Then we must go away at once. We must not 
bring Andreev and Susanna into trouble,” was the 
response. 

“ Our destruction would not secure their safety. 
Down with the Vaudois! is the cry everywhere 
heard.” 

“What would you advise?” asked Octavia, 
nerved by the danger that menaced her. 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


127 


“ I am not needed here,” he began ; “ and if 
danger threatens the hamlet, I shall discover it. 
The lads are here, and it is wise to leave them here. 
Andrew will understand, if he is questioned — these 
are the people he employs in his vineyard.” 

It was plain to Octavia that the Counts sous 
would not be safe, if recognized. But here with 
Andrew they were apparently free from danger. 
She must not urge their going away. 

Contrary to their expectation, Arnaud’s sugges- 
tion, with reference to going into the valleys, pleased 
the Countess. 

In this way, you will gain intelligence,” she 
said. “And when you learn anything of the Count 
and his brothers, you will hasten back to us.” Her 
face showed an expression of relief. Arnaud 
caught it, and was encouraged. 

“ I will, your grace. In the meantime you must 
rest. Your sons are with you. You must bear up 
bravely for their sake.” 

“ I am weak and selfish ! ” said the poor lady, 
turning to Octavia. “Teach me to be strong, as 
you are strong,” she said, tearfully. 

“We are neither of us strong with any strength 
of our own,” was the reply. “ Our strength is in 
God; and the way in whicli he leads us must be 


128 


VILLANOVA-SOI.ARO. 


the right way ; and then we have so many assur- 
ances of his loving care and kindness,” she said, 
sending a warm glance into the face of the Countess. 
“ It is the only way to rest, I think. Just to cling 
to his promise: ‘For I, the Lord thy God will 
hold thy right hand, saying unto thee. Fear not, I 
will help thee.^ ” 

“But may we — may I appropriate this to my- 
self?” said the Countess, coming tremblingly for- 
ward, and clasping one of Octavia’s hands in her 
own. 

“ You consider yourself a child of God, do you 
not?” 

“ I am his child, adopted into his family through 
the death and resurrection of his Son,” was said, 
solemnly. 

“ Then surely you may appropriate this promise,” 
returned Octavia. “ The youngest and the feeblest 
child in a family has a right to enjoy every priv- 
ilege that a wise and indulgent father can bestow 
upon his family.” 

“ I must think more of others,” said the Countess, 
after a pause. “ Susanna is a good soul ; and she 
is cleanly ; she gives me the best. Why should I 
not talk with her, as easily as I could talk with the 
Countess Carde, or the Duchess? I will begin 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


145 


“ I can’t see how God allows it. But he does 
allow it. His own blessed Son was scourged and spit 
upon, and nailed to the cross. Often and often I 
ask myself how they could do it ? God could have 
smitten them. He could have put their eyes out 
and struck them dumb; but he didn’t do it. I 
know I should have done it. And the blessed 
Lord prayed. In all his anguish he prayed: 
‘Father forgive,’ and so must we. It’s hard. I 
can’t do it as well as my mother could. But, I 
say to myself many times a day, that in this too, 
I must follow the dear Christ.” 

From outward sobbing there was now only a 
silent, settled sorrow. Francis Garde had suffered, 
and a thousand others had suffered, and thousands 
were lingering in prisons, and chained as slaves in 
the galleys. There was no security. The colayer 
had climbed up the steep mountain path with his 
Bibles; and the soldiers could climb, and might 
follow him. 

Andrew brought in an armful of pine knots. It 
would be something to see them blaze up, and the 
glow over the room would tend to cheerfulness. 

“It is hard, and I often say it,” ventured the 
colayer. “The bread which we eat has seven 

crusts, and the best of them is burned ! Still, I 
K 


146 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


cling to the Bible, and I will cling to it, as my 
father and mother did before me.” 

“You have told us about them before; but 
the rest might like to hear, too, Jacob,” Susanna 
said. 

With Susanna, to listen to anything was better 
than to sit still and think of one’s own grief ; and 
this the Countess was doing. 

“ My father lived in Barcelonette when the edict 
came for all the Vaudois to embrace Roman Cathol- 
icism, or to leave within the space of thirty days. 
Of course, there was never a thought of giving up 
the faith ; and my father, with other of his friends, 
determined upon going into the valley of Freys- 
sinieres. It was near Christmas, and the cold was 
severe. My mother held a babe in her arms, and 
so did others of the women. The snow came down, 
and the poor people were out all night. Those who 
died were soonest at the end of their sufferings. 
My mother was one. She had gone to sleep with her 
baby in her arms, and they never wakened.” 

“ It is good for us to think of these things ; for it 
makes us thankful that we are yet spared from such 
fearful sufferings. It is not for us to know God’s 
ways. Each morning we know that he has kept 
us through the night, and at the close of the day 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


147 


we can thank him that all has been well. This is 
our life, I think,” said Susanna. “ In his own time 
he will make it plain to us. We must wait.” 

The fire was once more burning low. Octavia 
drew her stool to the side of the Countess. 

“ Susanna is right. We must wait. Arnaud will 
keep us informed of every thing. It is the best 
for him to remain in the valley.” 

Susanna went over to the bed and gazed into the 
faces of her sleeping children. Then she came 
back to the ample fire-place, and, leaning against 
the rough log that answered for a mantel, looked 
over to her husband. 

“ Sleep is good,” she said, “ and when we sleep 
we rest. But always before we sleep we must ask 
God to keep us.” 

Andrew did not habitually call upon Octavia to 
pray ; but to night his voice was silent. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

WOOD CARVING, 

riTHE open fire on the hearth afforded Octavia 
-L many hours for carving. At first she found 
the wood hard, and her knife would slip, as it had 
slipped on the night when the colayer got lost in 
the mountains. 

‘‘A bad sign ! I say now, as I said then. But a 
sign that is bad can be turned aside, if one stops 
and doesn’t venture any more for that time. I knit 
into my seam needle, just as my mother used to do, 
and folded it away carefully, and now you take up 
your carving for the first time since” — Susanna 
said, as Andrew and Octavia arranged their stools 
and brought forth their work. 

Octavia did not smile. She knew that every 
human being had peculiarities, and Susanna was a 
good woman ; whatever superstitions she had were 
harmless, and had come down to her through suc- 
cession ; her mother had received them from the 
mother before her, and so on. 

The colayer remained on the heights for some 
148 


VILIuANOVA-SOLAEO. 


149 


days, and when he went away, he gave his Bibles 
to Octavia, to be distributed among the families 
in the hamlet ; and in return he was to receive the 
carvings. 

Cold as it was, and slippery as the paths might 
be, it was always a source of pleasure to go up to 
the hamlet. Often in stopping to admire a frozen 
cascade, or a crystal column jeweled with sunshine, 
the old thought would take possession of her : “ So 
much of God up here!” And again when she 
reached the dwellings of the poor people ; the de- 
light they manifested and the readiness with which 
they listened to her reading, with tears running 
down their cheeks, as they talked of their Barbas, 
driven away, and their church walls battered down. 
“And our brethren hunted like wild beasts. And 
who knows what the end may be ? ” 

“ It will be different now. You will not have to 
repeat the words of the Bible one to another; or 
even to wait for my coming. To have a Bible in 
your own house and in your own hands is a bless- 
ing. God’s promises strengthen the hungering soul ; 
and his gentleness subdues, chastens, and lifts up 
poor, shattered, throbbing, human hearts,” returned 
Octavia, in reference to the Bibles that the colayer 
had given her for distribution. 


150 


yiLLANOVA-SOLARO. 


“Aye, indeed. It is food for the hungry soul. 
It is something for poor folks like us to feel that we 
have a rich Father. And we must bear persecu- 
tion ; and not only bear it, but glory in it. And 
his very words, I like to think of them : * When they 
persecute you in this city, flee ye into another.^ 
This is just what we have been doing, and our 
fathers were doing the same before us — driven out 
of one valley, we have gone to another. And now 
the mountains around us are our defence.” 

It was pleasant for these people, cut off* from the 
services of the church, to have some one in whom 
they could confide. Then Octavia was versed in 
the knowledge of medicine, and thus when they 
were sick or in trouble they sent down to her, as to 
one able and willing to serve them. 

Spring was come before they again heard from 
Arnaud. The sun lay warm upon the ledges shelv- 
ing down behind the hut. Kills trickled down the 
crevices, and ran over the rocks in clear, limpid 
streams. A thin fringe of. green herbage showed 
itself here and there. The icy fetters were 
broken ; birds were beginning to twitter, and tiny 
Alpine blossoms came up through the dark mould, 
to sit in the sun and fill the gray old earth with 
gladness. Susanna was caring for the little ones. 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


151 


“ There is something to look forward to,” she 
said, as Octavia came up the path. “ The flowers 
are growing, and so is my Leon. See what steps he 
can take” — reaching out her hands to the boy who 
was gurgling and laughing, and stepping out with 
his fat legs. “ It’s the waiting and growing,” she 
continued. “ My Andrew was a lad once no bigger 
than Leon, and his mother led him over the rough 
steps, and laughed as he straightened himself, and 
watched to keep him from falling ; and now he is 
such a man for strength ; and just as his father, so 
will my baby grow ” — raising the boy in her strong 
arms, and dancing around and around on the sun- 
warmed ledge. 

Andrew had gone to the wood, taking Claude 
and Louis with him. Everywhere there was evi- 
dence that spring was coming early ; and there was 
the vineyard to be freshly hedged, and vines to be 
reset. Evrard was left in care of the small flock ; 
the Countess and Blanche joining him at times. 
The former walking slowly; now listening to the 
prattle of the child ; and then sending her gaze 
along the heights — her fine eyes filling with tears, 
and her lips tremulous, as she whispered: 

“ It seems, it will always seem, that we have been 
nearer heaven here.” 


152 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


The soft south wind led the cottagers to open 
their doors. “ The sun is like an old friend,” they 
said. “ Let it come in.” 

Octavia had become acquainted with the different 
kinds of wood. It was now little trouble for her 
to work at her carving, and frequently she carried 
it into the homes of the poor, isolated people ; and 
sitting with them, while her hands were employed, 
she repeated verses and sometimes entire chapters 
from the evangelists ; lifting up and comforting 
them, and in herself feeling the thrill that comes 
to one who, through sacrifice, brings joy to other 
hearts. 

“ It is a matter of rejoicing when the snow slips 
away from the rocks, and the sun warms the flower- 
buds, and the grass springs up. The children are 
just wild ” — said a woman, breaking away from the 
crowd of listeners, as fresh young voices were heard 
outside. 

“ It is the children. And they are no longer 
half-frozen,” continued the woman. “And here’s 
Madeline ! ” with a cry of delight. 

The young girl was securely wrapped in a blue 
rug, or blanket, bound about her waist with a belt 
of leather. In this she carried a white horn, or 
whistle, and her mountain staff. Evidently she 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


153 


had taken the few goats to places where the snow 
had slipped from the moss, and she had found a 
few scattered blossoms ; hence the wild cry of de- 
light, that had first alarmed the mother, and after- 
ward brought tears to her eyes. The clear, wax- 
like flowers were beautiful, but destitute of per- 
fume. 

“They have no heart yet,” said the woman, as 
she held them up for admiration. “ It is the sun 
will do this. And then they will take on color. 
The sun is a good thing. We have never too much 
of it. It does us good, as it does the daisies.” 

It was a pretty thought, and Octavia smiled in 
return. 

“ Will you be so good as to keep them,” said the 
girl, timidly. “And, if you please, will you carve 
them in wood? Susanna told us that you can 
carve better than Andrew, and he can make beauti- 
ful things.” 

“ I will try, Madeline. And if I fail, you must 
not think that I did not try.” 

“ Oh, you will not fail ! We will ask God to 
make you do well.” 

“Do you ask God for everything you want, 
Madeline?” 

“ Why should I not ? ” cried the girl, with 


154 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


dilated eyes and open nostrils, as though it were an 
unheard-of-question. “We have no one else to 
go to. All winter we have asked God not to let the 
soldiers come up to Boudrina, and they have not 
come.’^ 

“ Hush ! child,” exclaimed one of the older 
women. “ The soldiers would have burned our 
Bibles, if they could have found them. We are 
not too safe. Maurice says, we are not too safe.” 

“ We have God’s word, and he says he cares for 
us and hears us. It would be terrible if he didn’t 
keep his promise,” said the girl, beginning to sob. 

“Don’t take it in this way, child. Madge did 
not mean that God’s promise would fail. She feels 
as you do, that we must ask; and when we ask 
we must laugh and skip over the rocks, and enjoy 
the sunshine, and seek out the tiny white bells, 
secure in his constant care and watchfulness.” 

The woman had a bright, intelligent face. Oc- 
tavia questioned if she was one who had been 
driven to the rocks, rather than deny her faith ; or 
had her home been from infancy in the mountains ? 

“ When the snow is gone we shall see the Barba, 
shall we not, mother?” asked the girl, now per- 
fectly composed. 

“We hope so,” was the reply; “but if he does 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


155 


not come to the heights, Octavia will come to us, as 
she has been doing.” 

“ I know it ; and she will teach me to carve. 
You will teach me to carve, will you not ? ” — leaving 
her mother and coming over to Octavia. “ I think 
I can do it. We have not always been here; and 
I have learned so much about the goats. And I 
want to carve something to carry away with me,” 
was said with child-like insistency. 

“I will help you all I can. And I will try the 
flowers ; and we shall have pleasant times together,” 
was the answer. 

Octavia went along the path in a blind, dazed 
way. The lustrous eyes of this young girl seemed to 
be still upon her. The quick pressure of her 
fingers she could almost feel. They had not been 
here always. No, she was sure of it. Though 
habited like a peasant, Madeline was not a peasant ; 
and her mother was a woman that, for principles* 
sake, could adapt herself to circumstances. Who 
were they ? And, of course, they had sufiered, or 
they would not have climbed up to the heights. 
Thus absorbed, she did not perceive that one of the 
v/oodmen was walking silently on a point of rock 
from which he could easily perceive the windings 
of the distant valley, without drawing attention to 


156 


VILIANOVA-SOLARO. 


himself, by standing out clear and distinct against 
the sky. After the greeting he said, as he threw 
quick glances around him : 

“ This little nest of ours, just under the roof of 
the great blue arch, is so apparently safe.” 

Thinking his remarks had reference to the 
snow, Octavia asked if they were in danger of a 
snow-slide ? 

“ Not when it melts in this way. But there is 
serious trouble in the valleys,” was the reply. 

“ Has the colayer been heard from ? ” she asked. 

“ He was beaten severely, and then tortured to 
make him confess where he had hidden the Bibles. 
And the carvings — he would not say w'hose work it 
was ; and it is feared that the poor man will die.” 

“ Does Andrew Monteil know of this ? ” 

“Our enemies are everywhere. We look to An- 
drew as our leader. He is already calling in the 
men,” was the reply. 

Octavia had seen nothing; but the man had 
caught the flashing of bright weapons far down the 
valley. Instantly, he dropped to the level of the 
gray rock, and motioned his companion to do the 
same. 

“ I hardly think dt is our foes ; but it is wisdom 
to elude observation, as far as possible,” he said. 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


157 


Pressed close to the rock, Octavia found a tiny- 
blue flower. The sun, with loving glances, had 
quickened it into life ; and blossoming into beauty, 
it turned its eye heavenward, content to live the life 
given it. Tears ran down her cheeks, unrestrain- 
edly. God protected and hid it away from the chill 
and the frost. If God so cared for a tiny flower, 
moulding it into perfectness, and clothing it with 
beauty, how much more he had showed his love for 
her, sending his Son to be her guide even to the 
end ! 

Sending a swift gaze along the fastnesses of the 
rocks, she thought of the poor colayer. He had 
promised to return. She had looked forward to his 
coming. The Bibles had done, and were still doing, 
much good in Boudrina. She had anticipated his 
delight when she should tell him incidents con- 
nected with the reading, when the people gathered 
to listen, and the remarks that had brought strange 
beauty to her own soul. 

Placing the tiny blue blossom by the side of the 
few white ones Madeline had given her, Octavia 
made her way through the most obscure paths. 
Occasionally, a few goats dotted the rocks; but 
Evrard was not to be seen. 

Andrew met her before she reached the house. 


158 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


“I would like you to know,” he began — “you 
are one to know and keep from crying out — we have 
been warned of danger. Boudrina may be attacked. 
You must be prepared. We have sentinels on the 
heights, and the passes are well protected. If the 
soldiers come, they will find us ready. The cavern 
that sheltered you, will be the place for our women 
and children. You know the way.” 

“I am glad to know this. I will help you in 
every thing. And the lads,” — hesitating, and send- 
ing a swift glance into Andrew’s face. 

“ Claude and Louis have charge of one of the 
passes. They desired me to say as much to you.” 

Octavia wondered that she had ever called An- 
drew’s face heavy. He looked the hero ; and as he 
turned and walked away, leaving her to go up the 
path alone, she felt that, for true nobility, this man, 
energized by the fear of God, and willing to sacri- 
fice himself, if need be, had no peer. 

That night there was a gathering for Bible read- 
ing in Susanna’s dwelling, and earnest prayers went 
up for deliverance. But few dreamed, however, 
that the cloud, even then, was gathering, ready to 
pour its fury on their heads. 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE VAUDOIS DEFEND THEMSELVES. 

"PRESUMING on the warning already received, 
that the soldiers would not lose time in at- 
tacking Boudrina, the Vaudois proceeded imme- 
diately to erect barricades in the narrowest part 
of the valley. These ramparts, raised especially in 
order to present an obstacle to cavalry, were hastily 
formed of trees cut down and laid one upon 
another, between a double row of stakes, w’hich 
represented the faces of a wall. The branches of 
these trees were covered with great stones heaped 
together, and cemented by snow beaten hard and 
moistened by lukewarm water, so that it congealed 
into a solid mass around the stones and branches, 
and resembled a wall of one single, solid block. 

They had not long to wait. Two bodies of in- 
fantry were seen to be pushing forward, while the 
cavalry were still in the bottom of the valley. A 
company of pioneers preceded, to level the bar- 
ricades. 

As soon as this movement begun, the Vaudois 

169 


160 


VILLANOVA-SOLA RO. 


advanced by the left of the Felice, till they were 
opposite Les Chiabriols, and fired upon the cavalry 
as soon as they made their appearance; then re- 
treating from tree to tree, and from rock to rock, 
they continued to annoy them, until they reached 
the barricades situated beneath Villar. There they 
halted and united themselves to the company which 
defended that post. 

The day was spent in perpetual combat ; now on 
one point, now on another of this barricade, without 
the enemy being able to make a breach in it any- 
where. All this time the infantry had scattered 
into small parties, and were climbing over the 
rocks; and, at nightfall, they passed the line so 
heroically defended. 

The Vaudois were then obliged to separate their 
forces, in order to repulse these new assailants. 
The first who appeared had already crossed the 
torrent of Respart, and begun to ascend the vine- 
covered hills which look down upon Villar. The 
Vaudois, by running along the other slope, gained 
the summit, and partly repulsed the enemy in a 
hand to hand conflict. They were still thus en- 
gaged when the infantry on the right side de- 
scended above the barricade. Thus attacked in 
the rear, a panic was created. The men from the 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


161 


valley of Cliisone, seeing themselves caught be- 
tween two fires, judged their destruction inevitable, 
and made their way out of the only pass that was 
still open to them. The more valorous of the Vau- 
dois kept their ground until evening, and then 
retired in good order to Villar. 

The soldiers followed them, crying out for ven- 
geance, and threatening to burn the hamlet if they 
did not lay down their arms. 

“ If laying down our arms means, that we are no 
more to be molested in our religious service, we 
yield willingly,” replied the Vaudois. “ But, if you 
expect us to renounce our faith, we will never 
do it.” 

Inflamed by this reply, and above all, angry at 
the communications received from the arrest of 
colayers, who under the appearance of conveying 
goods from one valley to the other, still had Bibles 
in their keeping ; the captain commenced a vigor- 
ous demonstration in the direction of Tagliaretto, 
in order to draw ofl?* the Vaudois, and to enfeeble 
them by that diversion. 

Having now carried away all that they reckoned 
most valuable to the mountains, the Vaudois re- 
nounced the defence of the lower part of the valley, 

and confined themselves to the heights. Their as- 
L 


162 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


sailants therefore concentrated in the basin which 
extends, uninterrupted, from Bobi to Villar. They 
first attacked the hamlet of Boudrina, where, as we 
have seen, Andrew Monteil lived, with the exiles 
whom he had all the winter protected. 

Making hasty preparation, this man put himself 
at the head of the few men in the hamlet, and 
nobly assisted by the youths, Claude and Louis 
Solaro, together with the women of the place, he 
repulsed the soldiers by two successive assaults 
without the loss of a man; while their assailants 
left many dead upon the ground' This great suc- 
cess of the Vaudois was owing to their valor, and 
the protection of their God; and to the circum- 
stance that they were able to fire from above upon 
the enemy, and to shelter themselves from the fire 
of the enemy by running behind the numerous 
parapet-formed walls. 

Fresh troops were added to the assailants, and 
additional succor came to the Vaudois. After all, 
it was only a handful of mountaineers to hold their 
ground against quadruple forces, well armed. 

Abandoning that post, they dimed still higher. 
Meantime the Vaudois fell upon their knees and 
cried with one loud voice to the Lord ; then reso- 
lutely united for ^further combat. Those who had 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


163 


not arquebuses, made use of their slings, from 
which they cast a shower of stones upon the enemy. 
Three times the assailants rested, and three times re- 
turned to the combat. When they rested, the 
people above prayed to God with reverent voices ; 
and when the assault was renewed, there was the 
same earnest, persistent endeavor to do what they 
could. 

At the third assault a messenger arrived, crying, 
“ Courage ! Courage ! God has sent us the men of 
Angrogna ! ” 

o o 

“ Courage ! Courage ! Deliverance is at hand ! ” 
was echoed along the heights. 

However, the men of Angrogna were not there. 
They were fighting at Tagliaretto, from which they 
drove the assailants. But the assailants of Boudrina 
hearing it announced that assistance was coming to 
the Vaudois troop, which had already harassed 
them by six consecutive assaults, now beat a re- 
treat, in order to join the calvary, which remained 
posted in the basin of Bobi. The Vaudois pursued 
them ; overthrew the walls of dry stones behind 
which they had taken shelter, fairly routed them, 
and effectually drove them beyond the confines of 
Bobi and Villar. 

In this contest, Claude and Louis Solaro, flying 


164 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


out on the right wing of the small army, received 
wounds, so slight at first as to have no further effect 
than to stimulate them to more daring acts. Before 
the combat ended, they were carried insensible from 
the field. The poor Countess, upon seeing the bleed- 
ing bodies of her sons, swooned, and for hours was 
unconscious. Arnaud was not come; and Octavia, 
feeling that it was in all probability the last hour 
with them, had put forth all her strength. To yield 
was not to be thought of, however ; and after a short 
conference with Andrew Monteil, it was decided to 
care for the wounded ; but to keep up the defence. 

Already many of the women and children, ex- 
hausted and fainting, had sheltered themselves in 
the caverns and clefts of the rocks. Susanna was 
everywhere; now acting as a signal; then throw- 
ing stones with startling effect; and now binding 
up broken bones and producing remedies and cor- 
dials that opened weary eyes, and caused the poor, 
faltering tongues to thank God that it was no 
worse. 

Meantime, Octavia and Blanche, with words of 
comfort and cheer, were passing from one to 
another, when it was announced that the day was 
won and the wounded were in a condition to re- 
cover. The Countess, seeing that her sons were not 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


165 


mortally wounded, took courage. But few of the 
dwellings had been destroyed by the soldiers, and 
those could be readily rebuilt. 

With one accord the people came together, to 
unite in public prayer and thanksgiving. 

“ It is of his mercy ! ” “ God gave us the vic- 
tory ! ” “ And we should be thankful ! ” were ex- 
pressions heard on every side. 

“Yes; and it is well for us as a people to re- 
member,’’ Susanna said, as she gazed into Octavia’s 
face, while a serene exaltation mantled her features. 
“ I know the place and the verse. Often you have 
reminded me of it, and always it sounds out to me : 
‘ Call upon me in the day of trouble.’ It is com- 
forting to know that there is One able to say this 
to us. It is just as it is with my Leon. When 
anything threatens to harm him, or it is dark and 
he is afraid, he calls out. He expects me to help 
him, and I do help him ; and his cry is stilled. 
Yes,” she continued, coming to the hearth and 
resting her elbow on the rough logs, “ it was a day 
of trouble. We did call upon him, and he heard 
us, and came to our relief. This brings us nearer 
to him, does it not?” 


CHAPTER XVI. 


COUNTESS SOLAR 0 AND HER FAMILY MAKE A 
SECOND ATTEMPT TO REACH LUCERNA. 

T he Count had not been heard from, and grave 
fears were expressed with regard to the way 
he had been put to death. Another of the brothers 
had been held a prisoner at Villafranca. When 
Arnaud learned this, he determined to set him at 
liberty. Confiding his plans to a comrade whom he 
could trust, they made their way, without any one 
suspecting it, to the top of the castle, pierced the 
roof, descended into the attic, removed a plank of 
the ceiling, and reached Solaro’s prison. The young 
man knew not, on hearing this noise, whether he 
ought to fear or rejoice. Putting his trust in God, 
he remained calm. With his eyes fixed on the wall, 
he saw the plank recede ; then a dark lantern made 
its appearance ; and presently the old hunter, x^r- 
naud, threw his arms around him in a close em- 
brace. Then, putting him from him, he said : 

“ We are come to deliver you at the same time 

opening his dress and disclosing a rope ladder. A 
366 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 167 

death-like pallor crept over the face of the pris- 
oner. 

“Courage!” whispered the hiyiter. “God has 
protected us thus far, and he will not forsake us.” 

There was no time to spare ; before they reached 
the street, the jailer had heard the noise, and gave 
chase. The captive, faint from long confinement, 
could hardly walk. In Arnaud’s attempt to bear 
him away in his arms, he was wounded. Solaro 
was taken back to the castle, and shut up in a place 
of confinement still closer than before. 

This occurrence, however, had the effect of quick- 
ening the proceedings against Solaro, and hastening 
the termination of his bodily sufferings. The papers 
in his case having been sent to Rome, he was con- 
demned to the rack. But on the day of execution 
he was brought forth dead from the prison in which 
he had been detained ; neither was it known 
whether he had died by a natural, or by a violent 
death. 

This intelligence, coming as it did after her sons 
had been wounded at Boudrina, led the Countess to 
desire most earnestly to make another attempt to 
reach Lucerna. 

“ It may be for the best,” Andrew said, when ap- 
pealed to by Octavia. “ Our walls are broken, and 


168 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


our flocks led away. There will be much work to 
be done before we can be as comfortable as we were 
when the soldiers found their way here. If you 
think best, I can only say, God be with you ; and 
remember, wherever you are, such as we have we 
will freely share with you, at any time you may 
choose to return.’^ 

It was a long speech for Andrew, w^hose usual 
manner of fragmentary speech was sufiiciently 
comprehensive; but stood out, like rocks dis- 
connected. 

“ We have been here, and it is like home to us,” 
said the young girl, weeping. 

Susanna expressed herself with generous warmth. 
“You have been with us, and you have done us 
good,” she said. “I wish my mother could have 
seen you. My mother was a wise woman, and you 
are a wise woman. I bless God. I shall always 
bless God for hiding you first in the cavern, and 
then bringing you to us.” 

It was settled. And the day was set. There re- 
mained only the leave-taking in the hamlet, and 
this was delegated to Octavia. 

It was a difiicult task to say “ good-by ” to the 
people of the hamlet, and, above all, to Susanna, 
and the children. 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


169 


“ You won’t forget that you are to carve a whole 
village for me,” said Paul, lifting his chubby hand 
to wipe away a tear, slowly rolling over Octavia’s 
cheek. “ You will do it as soon as you get there, 
and Jacob will bring it when he comes.” 

“ Hush, Paul. To be asking at this time is not 
wise. But what does the child know? ” turning to 
Octavia. “You will remember only that he is 
fond of you, as we all are,” exclaimed Susanna. 

The girl smiled into the child’s face, and gave 
him her hand. Then his mother caught him up in 
her arms, and walked with them to the brow of the 
hill. The Countess and her sons were already 
there. A moment of silence, during which each 
eye seemed to be drinking in the view for the last 
time. Then a fervent “ God bless you ! ” smote the 
air, and the weary journey was begun. 

“ Stop ! ” cried the child, “ you forgot some- 
thing ! ” with a tender earnestness in his face. 

“What is it, Paul? What have we forgotten?” 
was asked. 

“ For Christ’s sake ! You did not say that.” 

“ God bless the baby !” exclaimed Susanna, press- 
ing her lips to the child’s forehead. “God bless 
our baby ! ” 

“ For Christ’s sake,” said the child. 


170 


VTLLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


“ For Christ’s sake,” was answered in chorus. 

“ Now it is right,” said the child ; a look of 
patient submission creeping over his face. 

The Countess had the appearance of being 
stronger. The hope of meeting Arnaud sustained 
her. He had written but once, and it was possible 
that he had learned something more of the Count 
and his brothers. 

The first night the fugitives passed in a deserted 
sheep-fold, a corner of which was covered closely, 
and by the aid of leaves and moss made a fragrant 
retreat for the small party, who were now thor- 
oughly weary. Claude and Louis were barely 
recovered of their wounds. More than once they 
had come to a halt; but as no place of shelter 
offered, they were urged forward. Once in pos- 
session of the sheep-fold, their spirits sensibly light- 
ened. 

“ Last night we were walking on the ledge and 
looking down the paths, and wondering how it 
would be with us to-night ; and now we are here, 
and the stars are out, and God is reaching down his 
hand and smiling into our upturned faces.” Evrard 
was one to find enjoyment in his surroundings; and 
his words brought comfort to his mother’s heart. 

Searching for water, the star rays flashed across 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


171 


a silvery, rippling brook that emptied into a wooden 
trough not far from the sheep-fold. Producing a 
cup, Evrard insisted upon filling it again and 
again, while Blanche cut generous slices from the 
black loaf with which Susanna had furnished them. 
Change, and the hope in their hearts, led them to 
discourse with more freedom than they had done 
for many months. The memory of the late conflict 
grew dim, and at length faded into the days when 
the castle was their home and their noble ancestors 
looked down upon them through successive cen- 
turies. It was pleasant, and still the night was 
passing. 

“Susanna is asleep long before this hour,” said 
Octavia. “‘Sleep is the best thing,’ she used to 
say; and Andrew advised us to start early.” 

Bending their knees in the sheep-fold, just as 
they were accustomed to do in the castle, before 
persecution rendered them homeless, they fell asleep 
with their hands clasped, and their faces to the 
stars. 

The next day their way was chequered with 
divers paths, and many turnings were made, and 
much precious time lost in eluding the vigilance of 
those whose questions might compromise them in 
the eyes of strangers. As the sun was setting, they 


172 


villan6va-solaro. 


came to a scattered hamlet that showed signs of re« 
cent conflict. The cottages were partly destroyed ; 
palings broken down, and the just-springing vines 
were torn and trodden into the earth. It was a 
sickening spectacle ; and at once it was evident that 
rest for the night could not be found in such a 
place of destitution. As they stood gazing around, 
timidly, a young woman came from one of the huts 
with a pitcher which she filled from a neighboring 
spring. Observing the fugitives, she advanced fear- 
lessly, mistaking them for friends. 

“ Do you bring news of the men ? ” she asked. 
“ Are they coming to-night ; or will the pursuit 
take them far away ? 

“We are strangers here,” said Claude, with 
manly frankness. “We judge there has been a 
sharp contest, and the men of whom you speak 
have pursued their assailants ; but we have heard 
nothing of it.” 

“ Then it is possible that you are on our side — 
that you are Vaudois,” she said hesitatingly. 

“The Bible is our guide. We are homeless by 
reason of our determination to follow its teachings,” 
was the reply. 

“ Then you will comprehend our strait ”— taking 
a step nearer and giving her hand. “ It is desolate, 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


173 


and we are not all here ; but you must share with 
us. We have something left to eat, and the men 
will be coming in to-night, I think.” 

There was an honest cordiality in the tone that 
won quick response in the hearts of the fugitives. 
They followed the woman into the hut, the interior 
of which showed more comfort than the outside 
promised. 

A white-haired woman was sitting on a bench 
near the door, and near her a small child was doing 
his best to walk, the woman holding out her hand 
to steady his steps ; but leaving him free to his own 
simple movement. 

“ Just so,” thought Octavia, ‘‘ God steadies the 
steps of his children. He is near, he reaches forth 
his hand ; but he does not step for them. He is 
the helper. Is it not a beautiful thought — the 
Helper, my Helper ? ” 

The morning following found them refreshed by 
sleep; but the Countess was exhausted and could 
not go on. The pursuing party did not return 
during the night. 

“A shelter is something to be thankful for,” said 
the woman. “Poor as it is, it is better than the 
roadside, and you are welcome.” 

“ Welcome ! thrice welcome ! ” echoed the white- 


174 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


haired woman. “ With no strength for the journey 
it would sadden us to see you go from us ”■ — Avhile 
the child clung to Evrard’s neck and would not let 
him go. 

Before night the Countess was so ill, that all 
thought of leaving the hut for the present was 
abandoned. Meantime Blanche and the lads, leav- 
ing Octavia to care for the Countess, set to work 
to mend the palings, and reset the vines. Each 
day brought some of the wounded back to their 
homes. Still, no one came to Ursula’s hut; and 
soon it was known that her husband had been taken 
prisoner. At first it was a sorrow too heavy to 
be borne ; but gradually, the comfort that comes to 
those who feel that God’s plan for every human 
soul is the best plan, filled her heart. It was all 
known to One who loved her with a love tenderer 
than mothers know for their children. He had 
been smitten, tortured, and led to a cruel death. 
Was it for her to follow in his footsteps when the 
way was easy, and now, when the path diverged, 
and the cross stood before her, must she shrink and 
cry out that the way was dark and she could not 
go on? 

As the scattered^ inhabitants returned to the 
hamlet, Ursula’s house become a Bethel where, in 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


175 


the absence of a pastor, Octavia gathered those 
who were able to come, and read to them from the 
evangelists, and led them in prayer. 

“ It is doing something, and we are expected to 
use opportunities,’’ she said to Blanche. “ Besides, 
we do not know how long it may be for us to do 
even this.” 

When the Countess could be left safely, the 
wounded men were more frequently visited ; and in 
this way much information was gathered with 
regard to the work of the soldiers in the valleys, 
together with the names of those who chose death 
rather than renounce the simple teaching of the 
Bible ; counting it no loss to be deprived of their 
estates, provided they were left to the free enjoy- 
ment of the religion of their Lord and Saviour, 
Jesus Christ. 

Every day brought fresh alarms, however. Count 
Charles of Lucerna wrote letters to the Vaudois, 
persuading them to send away their pastors, and 
bend to circumstances ; were it only for love of him 
and the safety of their own families. 

“We must do that which the love of God and of 
truth directs us to do,” was the reply. 

Then a deputation was sent to him. 

‘‘Send away your pastors,” be said, “at least 


176 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


while this storm lasts. I will promise in that case to 
use my influence fur you to the best of my ability.” 

“We are deeply impressed by your kindness,” 
they replied. “ But we are not empowered to make 
such an engagement in the name of our people.” 

The Duchess of Savoy likewise wrote to this effect : 

“ Dear and well beloved, we shall commend the 
good desire which you show toward the service of 
God, as also of your prince, and we are far from 
thinking that you speak feignedly; but we have 
two things to ask of you : the first of which is, that 
while you reserve to yourselves the things which 
can only belong to the judgment of your own con- 
science, you would proceed in respect of them with 
sound discretion as well as with true zeal ; for the 
one without the other is worth very little. The other 
is, that you would submit your deliberations to 
those who, being upon the spot, can judge accu- 
rately of what is expedient, both for the one party 
and for the other ; and, if you allow yourselves to be 
questioned by those who understand public affairs 
and desire your repose, you will never find your- 
selves deceived, nor have cause of dissatisfaction.” 

Margaret of France believed in the good inten- 
tions of the Duke^ and the governor ; and accord- 
ingly she adds, in the letter above quoted, that she 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 177 

hopes that time and experience will permit the 
Vaudois to do them justice. 

Another curious particular connected with this 
system of persecution is the fact, that Charles IX. 
wrote to the Duke of Savoy a very pressing letter 
in favor of the persecuted. 

“ I have one request to make to you,” he wrote to 
the Duke, “ which I would make, not in an ordinary 
way, but with all the earnestness that is possible 
for me — for during the troubles of war, passion no 
more permits us to judge aright of what is ex- 
pedient, than disease permits a patient to judge 
in his own case — and as you have treated your 
subjects in an unusual manner upon this account — 
for my sake, also, let it please you now, in kindness 
to me upon my prayer and special recommendation, 
to receive them to your benign favor, to restore 
them, and reinstate them in their possessions which 
have been confiscated. This matter is so just in 
itself, and is so earnestly regarded by me, that I 
assure myself you will readily comply with my 
wishes.” 

Charles IX. was naturally of an excellent dis- 
position and possessed of rare abilities. He was 
brave, intrepid, and of sound judgment. He ex- 
pressed himself with readiness and dignity. But 
M 


178 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


the seductions by which he was surrounded per- 
verted this happy natural character; the Queen 
Mother herself trained him in the art of deceit and 
dissimulation ; the Marshal De Retz taught him to 
make light of oaths ; and the Guises, by their san- 
guinary counsel, turned the natural impetuosity of 
his character into cruelty. Placed in other circum- 
stances, he would, perhaps, have been one of the 
most accomplished princes of whom the records of 
history have preserved the memory. If Charles 
IX. had been brought under the teaching of the 
Bible, France would have escaped many calamities. 
In connection we would notice that, after the mas- 
sacre of St. Bartholomew, when sixty thousand 
Huguenots had fallen in France, the Duke of 
Savoy was filled with indignation. He energetically 
protested against the cruelties of Charles IX., af- 
firming that he would never sully his reputation by 
such crimes, and at once proclaimed to the Vaudois, 
that henceforth they should have nothing more to 
fear. Notwithstanding the good intentions of the 
Duke, they were short-lived; adverse influences 
were made to act upon him ; the fires of persecution 
flamed still higher. In speaking thus warmly, the 
Duke of Savoy had not rightly estimated the at- 
titude of the Church of Rome in this matter. 


CHAPTER XVIL 

THE EAGLE’S NEST. 

rpHE days were long in Ursula’s house — longer 
than they had been in Susanna’s home. The 
Countess was still feeble, and she leaned upon 
Blanche, and kept the girl near her. 

“ It is the wise course, I think,” said Blanche, to 
Octavia. “ With me she does not so much incline 
to talk of the old life. I amuse her, very much as 
I would amuse a sick child; and she smiles and 
laughs at my fancies. It is so. God makes some trees 
in the forest to reach their heads far above others, 
and their branches give shelter and warmth to count- 
less winged creatures ; and at the foot of the trees, 
rise the mosses, lifting their tiny cups to be filled by 
the same gracious hand. It is all service. You are 
the tall tree, Octavia, and I the humble moss-cup. 
He gave us each the place he would have us fill ; 
and he loves us.” 

“You have very many pretty fancies, my dear. 
You comfort the Countess when her heart is well 

nigh broken. I have seen it, and I am grateful.” 

179 


180 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


With Blanche to care thus tenderly for the 
Countess, Octavia felt herself more at liberty to 
speak to the women whom she met, sympathizing 
with them, and showing herself helpful in all little 
ways. Many of them were sick from exposure and 
ill-attended wounds, and there was a look of dis- 
couragement in their faces that called for the balm 
and oil that comes to the tried soul through the 
reading of the word, and a firm, loving trust in 
God. 

To become thoroughly acquainted with their 
needs, she made long walks with Evrard over the 
rocks and the unused paths; finding flowers to 
brighten the caverns 'where many families were 
still sheltered ; speaking to them words of encour- 
agement and bringing them out to the ledges, to 
gaze at the sun as he poured his wealth of golden 
splendor over the distant valleys. 

It is easy enough to feel right and to do right 
when the sun shines,” said one of the women, as 
she gazed along the shelving ridges into the purple 
distance, slashed with sun-rays. “ It’s then God 
seems nearer ; and the troubles by the way do not 
interpose a wall through which we cannot make 
our way.” 

Under any circumstances, the wall is not so 
\ 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 181 

high that we cannot look over it,” said Octavia, 
smiling. 

“ That is a wise thought,” said the woman. “And 
I will think of it when the wall stretches before me, 
and I grope about for escape and find none. I will 
look over it.” 

“And gaze upon the Lord’s face, just as you look 
up to the sun in his universal warmth and splendor ; 
a symbol of the generous love God bestows upon 
the creatures of his hand,” was the reply. 

“ I like best to think of his love through Christ,” 
said another of the women. “ I do not think that 
I could live but for this thought. He suffered for 
us, and with his stripes we are healed.” 

“ Yes, and he loves us,” was the remark ventured 
by another. “It is the love ; and the love makes 
the sunshine in our hearts even when we are hidden 
away in the cavern.” 

Such words were stepping stones ; the weak, 
worn women were mounting higher. Going down 
to the hamlet, more flowers were found in sheltered 
places. 

“ God put it here purposely,” cried Evrard, pluck- 
ing one of the small wildlings and holding it up 
for Octavia to admire. “ Purposely ” — as if talking 
to himself. “ He knew that we would find it. He 


182 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


meant to have us discover it ; so he set it where the 
cold and the wind would not hurt it. He did not 
just drop it from a full hand carelessly.” 

Evrard had been nurtured under influences that 
promoted reverence; love of truth, and a firm 
belief in the doctrines of the Bible were inwoven 
into his being. He saw God in his works. He 
loved flowers, and delighted in them as the gift of 
God ; and child as he was, he realized what it was to 
suffer for his name’s sake. 

Claude and Louis had hedged the vines, and con- 
structed supports. Then they deepened the furrows 
and scattered seed, and looked forward to the time 
when there would be a crop to harvest. The white- 
haired woman leaned upon them, as she would have 
leaned upon her own sons; and Ursula spoke to 
them of her husband, and the way and manner in 
which he had kept the place. It comforted her to 
see them interested in building up the waste places, 
and not unfrequently she was beguiled into a strain 
that showed the hope in her heart, that her husband 
w^ould one day return. 

As the days grew long and the heat of summer 
perfected the growth of moss and lichen, Octavia 
and Evrard wound their way still higher over the 
rocks. The calm stillness of the heights brought 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


183 


strange peace. Below all was combat — thoughts of 
her old life swept over her, as the breeze ripples the 
surface of the crystal pool. To the delight of the 
child, an eagle swept out in broad circles ; then 
rising higher and still higher, was seen only as a 
speck in the unfathomable blue above them. Still 
gazing, she remembers the time when Francis 
Garde shot an eagle, and besought her to wear a 
feather for his sake. Tears trickled slowly down 
her cheeks. Francis had suffered martyrdom, and 
her brothers were widely scattered, if alive. At 
times during her wandering, she had felt that only 
a few hours and she would meet Valerio; but this 
hope had not been realized, and Arnaud even had 
not of late been heard from. Still there was peace. 
God saw the terrible calamities that weighed so 
heavily upon his people, and he could so order and 
arrange that blessing would flow from it. When 
or in what way, she could not determine ; but she 
could leave it with him. 

Thus climbing to the heights, with the child 
gazing up to the eyrie from whence he had seen 
the eagle take his flight, Octavia drank in new 
inspiration; and a stronger, purer love took pos- 
session of her heart. Herself a mote in immensity, 
God over her and around her, and God in the af- 


184 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


fairs of men. How sweet the story of his love I 
He, the Son, came down to earth to be a pattern. 
He died, in order to lift humanity up to the arms of 
the great, loving Father. Heath was only the 
vestibule through which all must pass ; the portal 
to a life where sorrow and tears could never come. 

In her musing she missed the child ; fear took 
hold of her. Had he fallen over the rocks ? Or 
had he ventured to climb to the eyrie ? Awed and 
silent, she saw him sitting upon a narrow shelf, 
while the eagle, making circles in the air, suddenly 
dropped to the level of the nest, and curving his 
wings went slowly downward, with three eaglets on 
his back. 

“ He is teaching them to fly. Look how steadily 
he moves ! And now he turns ! How grand and 
tender he looks ! I shall like an eagle after this ! ’’ 
exclaimed the child. 

“ A sight that we have never seen till now ; and 
we must hasten home,” said Octavia, with suppressed 
emotion. 

It was a perilous situation for the lad. With his 
gaze going out after the eagle, would he be able to 
keep from falling down the rocks? Fearful of 
offering any assistance, she turned aside with 
assumed indifference, and was surprised, a moment 
\ 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


185 


later, to find the boy at her side, with a knot of tiny 
blossoms in his hands. 

The sun was shining in the valley, and a white 
cloud hung, like a protecting banner, just over 
Ursula’s home. Blanche and the Countess were to 
be seen w^alking up and down before the door. The 
Countess was wearing one of Ursula’s gowns. It 
was much too large for her, and she laughed, as 
she put it on ; then turned her face to the wall and 
brushed aside a tear. Poor woman ; she was doing 
her best to be strong. Now the path wdnds around 
the rocks, and the humble home and the prome- 
naders are no longer to be seen. 

The solitude deepens. At length the bleating of 
a pet lamb arrested Evrard’s attention. 

“ It sounds like Mina. Listen ! ” said the lad, 
stopping in the path, and listening intently. “ Of 
course it is not Mina ; but it is like Mina. Can 
one of the goats have fallen ? ” he asked. 

A little strip of green earth lay at the bottom of 
a perpendicular rock, and, peering over, Octavia 
discovered something that looked like the outline 
of a man lying there. Possibly it was a black 
lamb. Andrew whistled to his sheep. She 
whistled. There was no answering bleat. 

The rocks were piled high on the opposite side of 


186 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


the grass plat. From the point she occupied she 
could not perceive the entrance. Man or beast, it 
must have entered by a path, or fallen, perhaps, 
from the rocks. With no other thought than to 
assure herself that it was not a human being, she 
began the descent, dislodging a stone that fell to the 
bottom with a crashing sound. An unmistakable 
groan followed. It was now plainly revealed. A 
man was lying at the bottom of the gorge, with his 
pallid face partially concealed by his right arm. 
Bending over him, she saw, with consternation, that 
it was no other than Andrew Monteil. But how 
came he there? Meantime, Evrard had caught 
sight of Claude and Louis, and, running forward, he 
cried out for help. It was the work of a moment. 
The poor man was sitting up when they arrived; 
but he was too much exhausted to walk without 
assistance. 

“ It seemed hard to die here,” he said, as they 
raised him to his feet. “ I wanted to see you. I 
wanted you to know that Arnaud ” 

“Do not fatigue yourself by telling us now,” 
broke in Octavia. “Let us thank God that we 
discovered you in time.” 

It was a perilous walk over the rocks ; and fre- 
quently they had to stop to rest. When they 









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VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


187 


reached the hut, they saw that blood was running 
from a bullet wound in his side. Enemies had 
been on his track, and this accounted for the fall. 
The letter spoken of was streaked with blood. It 
was from Arnaud. The sight of the familiar 
characters caused Octavia to experience a faint, 
sickly sensation ; her fingers trembled, and a spasm 
of pain shot over her features. 

“ Take it and read it to the Countess,” she said to 
Blanche. 

It was from Arnaud ; but why had he sent it by 
the hand of Andrew Monteil? Why did he not 
come himself? 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

ABNAUB^S LAST JOURNEY. 

T he question asked by Octavia, when the letter 
came, was answered as soon as Andrew could 
command himself to speak. Arnaud had reached 
his dwelling in a dying condition. He had made 
diligent search for the Count ; and he had at last 
found one who gave him the sad intelligence, that 
the Count of Solaro had been tortured in the “ ex- 
traordinary question,” that is, the wedges. In the 
first place two planks are placed between the legs, 
then two more outside, and these are bound together 
with a cord. This formed what was called the 
‘‘ boot.” Six wedges were commonly used ; but in the 
case of “ excessive obstinacy ” ten were employed, 
which not only crushed the flesh, but broke the 
bones likewise. At each question of the Inquisitor, 
the executioner struck a tremendous blow on the 
wedges, causing the poor victim to cry out with the 
pain ; or possibly to faint from the intensity of his 
anguish. The Count would not deny his faith, even 

to save his life; and the tortures had not been 
188 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


189 


stayed until all his bones were broken, and his 
body was one wound. 

Arnaud, too, had suffered ; and knowing that his 
end was near, he had dragged himself to Boudrina, 
thinking to find the Countess in the home of An- 
drew Monteil. 

“ It will ease his mind, if you go, and explain,” 
Susanna said to her husband. “ His strength is ex- 
hausted, and in doing a good deed, God will protect 
you on your way, and bring you back again.” 

Susanna was one to do by others as she would like 
others to do by her. Her heart was full of love and 
trust. She felt that God would protect her husband, 
because she asked him to do so. Andrew was not 
behind his wife in loyalty to his faith. 

“ They will feel how utterly hopeless is a further 
search,” he returned, “ and the letter will reach 
them ; otherwise, they will never know, as much of 
it was written on the spot, and will explain for itself, 
Arnaud says.” 

“ It is the knowing that it is all over. They can 
now think of him as at rest. Before, they were un- 
certain. It will be different when they see you,” 
Susanna continued. 

Encouraged by her words, and alike desirous of 
knowing how it fared with the exiles, Andrew 


190 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


started. Relying upon his knowledge of the moun- 
tains, he chose the most secluded paths, and was sur- 
prised one day to find himself accosted by a man in 
the garb of a priest; but who had soldiers under 
him. 

“Are you a Vaudois ? ” was asked. 

“ I was born in the valleys. I have never been 
any distance away from them,” was the answer. 

“ Do you confess ? ” was the next question. 

“ I confess to God daily,” was the reply. 

“ Do you confess to the priest ? ” was demanded. 

“ The priest is but a man. Why should I confess 
to him? He cannot forgive my sin,” was said, 
boldly. 

At this answer, the questioner was greatly in- 
flamed. 

“He is guilty of heresy; put him to death!” 
was the cry. 

Awed by his boldness, his persecutors faltered. 
Some were for breaking him on the wheel, and 
others cried ; “ Throw him into prison I ” The 

latter was done ; and at night a woman opened the 
prison door, and, touching him lightly, bid him flee 
to the mountains. As he was passing the guards, 
one of them gave chase; but, fortunately in the 
darkness, took the opposite direction. The next 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


191 


day, and when he had been sure of reaching them 
at night, as he was passing around a rock, that 
lifted him into prominence against the sky, an 
arquebuss was discharged, the contents entering 
his side, and sending him over the precipice, where 
he would have perished had not Octavia discovered 
him. 

The latter trembled as she listened. Herself on 
the heights that day, she had not dreamed that 
soldiers were so near. Doubtless, they were search- 
ing for the Bibles ; and, if they found them, what 
mercy could she hope for at their hands ? 

Arnaud’s letter was in fragments, each one mark- 
ing an event; now joining in the defence of a 
people persecuted for their adherence to the Bible ; 
persisting in reading it for themselves, and deter- 
mined to abide by its doctrines ; then recounting 
the suffering at the stake, and the intense agony 
of the wheel ; until, crushing the paper in her hand, 
Octavia’s voice would lose itself in a sob — it seemed 
so terrible. 

“Arnaud seemed anxious, in view of all the suf- 
fering he had seen, that Claude and Louis should 
go to Turin, in order to set the matter before the 
Duke of Savoy in its true light,” Andrew ventured 
to say during the pause in the reading. “ They 


192 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


are not eye-witnesses, and the truth is kept from 
them,” he added in connection with what was 
further said of the Duke and Duchess. 

“ I have thought of this,” Claude began, “ and to 
know that Arnaud advised it gives me courage. 
The Duke knew our father. He will believe us.” 

For reply, Octavia made an effort to say : 
“ Here is a fragment. Arnaud was on his way to 
Lucerna. This is what he says : ‘For some days 
we had little to eat but chestnuts; and our men 
were weak and faint-hearted. Before we had gone 
far we were attacked by a body of soldiers, and so 
unexpectedly that we had only time to throw our- 
selves into a square of four stone walls that had 
served as a sheep-fold, and became for us a sort of 
rampart in which we defended ourselves, until the 
captain who attacked us, enraged that so small a 
company fought so bravely, resolved to storm our 
fortress, and rushed on, sword in hand. But his 
rashness cost him his life, and the lives of some of 
the bravest of the soldiers who followed him. The 
rest finding that only death-strokes were to be 
gotten by fighting with men thoroughly desperate, 
thought it expedient to allow us to resume our 
journey without further molestation.’ ” 

Ursula was weeping bitterly. Amaud’s letter 


VILLA NOVA-SOLARO. 


193 


and the contests in which he was engaged, brought 
forcibly before her the incidents connected with her 
husband’s death. He was not one to recant ; neither 
was she one to deny the Christ of the Bible. 

“ But it is hard. I cannot deny that it is hard ” 
— weeping and covering her face with her hands. 
“ So many good men die, and so many evil men are 
made to rule over us. Why is it?” she said, to 
Octavia. 

The Countess was weeping. Octavia did not at 
once reply. Ursula continued : 

“ It was so. The Barbas had their days to visit 
us, and instruct us in our duty to God and to men. 
And when we were sick and in trouble, they came 
to point us to God through Christ. Then the 
priests came and commanded us to go to mass, and 
to confess, just as though we did not confess to God 
every day of our lives. And the mass — what is it ? 
I once asked a priest what it was, and he answered, 
that it was the mass, and that was enough ; and, if 
I did not go, I should be a heretic, and to be a 
heretic was to be lost ” — stopping abruptly, and 
with mingled sorrow and indignation in her voice. 

It was pitiful — the poor woman was overcome. 
The white-haired mother moved quietly to Octavia’s 
side. 

N 


194 


VILLANOVA-SOLAKO. 


“ When the children weep, the mother takes them 
in her arms and soothes them with the music of her 
voice. God’s children weep, and God’s love is 
tenderer than mothers know. We need to hear of 
his loving kindness. It will do us all good,” she 
said in a low voice. 

With a swift prayer for guidance, Octavia opened 
the sacred volume, and read the account of the last 
sad scenes in the garden, the terrible anguish that 
caused the loving Christ to sweat, as it were, great 
drops of blood. And then the comforting assur- 
ance, that to suffer with him is likewise to reign 
with him. 

“ It is so, and I like to think it is so ! ” interrupted 
Ursula ; “ but there are times when I think it all 
over, and how my husband died, and the many 
worthy people who have suffered every loss, I feel 
that I must cry out. May the good God pardon me. 
I do not mean to deny him. No, indeed ! I am 
not one to do that ; neither was Bartol. To count 
everything loss for Christ was the right way, he 
said.” 

Andrew’s wound proved to be more serious than 
was at first anticipated. Arnaud had been left with 
Susanna, and he was anxious to return. 

“We cannot let you set out until you are 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


195 


stronger,” said the Countess, “and then some one 
must go with you,” she said, tenderly. 

“ If these lads go to Turin, it will be well for 
them to go as early as possible. If not for this 
wound, I would myself set off with them. As it 
is, I must not delay them,” answered the sufferer. 

“ Then you think it wise for them to go ? ” was 
asked, tremblingly. 

“Arnaud felt sure that the Duke would be per- 
suaded. He does not hear the truth, and conse- 
quently he shows himself to be cold and austere, 
when his heart is kind to this people,” was the 
reply. 

The Countess was worried to talk of the old life. 
The Duchess had been her friend. 

“And the Duchess is herself a Christian,” she 
said, feelingly. 

“ Then she will listen to the lads,” answered the 
wounded man. “She will perceive that she has 
been imposed upon. This wicked governor, Cast- 
rocaro, has given the Duke to understand that the 
resistance of the Vaudois to the cruel mandates of 
the Papal Church is no other than rebellion on 
their part against the authority of their Prince. 
This is not the case ; and if he ever perceives it, all 
will be well.” 


196 VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 

Octavia ventured to say, that this had been tried 
previously; remonstrances had been sent to no 
purpose, and deputies had alike failed. 

“ But this was before that dreadful day when so 
many Christians were put to death. Did not the 
Duke say that it was all wrong ; that he would 
never sully his name by such an act?” — said the 
invalid, trying to rouse himself from the apathy 
into which he had fallen since his wound. 

Oc-tavia was surprised ; the very words they had 
used in the evenings when Andrew taught her to 
carve, and he had treasured them up ; she had 
never expected to hear him talk in this manner. 

The white-haired woman was a skillful nurse, 
and in her youth she learned to dress wounds and 
to bind up broken limbs. Andrew Monteil was 
cared for in a way that, would have more than 
satisfied Susanna, had she been there to witness it ; 
meantime there was much questioning and frequent 
interviews. The question at stake concerned each 
one alike. 

“ It must be answered. And still it cannot be 
answered,” Ursula said. “We must ask.” 

“ That is the right word,” exclaimed the white- 
haired woman. “ It is the asking. If we ask for 
light, we receive light. Many times in the day I 


VILIiANOVA-SOLARO. 


197 


Bay to myself, ‘ whatsoever ye shall ask/ I cannot 
comprehend just how it is, and I vex myself and 
him with my complaining. Still, I know he will 
not deny me ; neither wdll he allow me to be tried 
beyond my strength.” 

It was a good deal for the white-haired woman to 
say ; and for the rest of the day she was silent. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE JOURNEY TO TURIN DECIDED UPON, 

T dawn Octavia wakened, as if something had 



touched her. Through the crevice in the 
roof a glimmer of light penetrated. “ It is the sun 
that wakened me,’’ she said to herself. She put on 
her clothes noiselessly and went outside the hut. 
Ursula was preparing breakfast. 

“ The sick man is better this morning,” she said. 
“ He slept ; and sleep is the best thing for him ; 
and when he opened his eyes a wood-finch was 
singing. It is good when a wood-finch sings at 
break of day. The wood-finch is not at all like the 
cuckoo. The cuckoo flies from place to place. He 
hasno'home; he is a wanderer. Not so the w^ood- 
finch. He brings peace. The sick man heard him 
this morning, and he is better.” 

It had not before occurred to Octavia that 
Ursula was so like Susanna in spirit. Why not? 
They were both at home in the mountains, and 
their education was mostly traditional. 

More glowing and more widely spread became 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


199 


the rose tint in the sky, and more and more 
boldly the giant forms of the mountains stood 
forth. While she is still gazing, the great ball of 
the sun appeared, dyeing the heights in purple and 
gold, while far below them floated masses of rolling 
clouds, like noiseless waves. The day was fully 
come, the bright day, warming and kindling the 
earth with its glow. Countless glittering vapors 
rose up from tree, and grass, and flower; the song 
of the wood-flnch was again heard ; and the young 
girl stood with her arms outstretched, as if she must 
embrace infinity. She did not kneel; she stood 
upright. What was it but a type of creation? 
God made it, and her eyes had seen it; blessing 
must and would follow it. 

Octavia went into the room of the Countess and 
came out again; the poor lady was still asleep. 
Blanche came out in time to catch the glowing 
picture. She thought herself quite alone. 

“Now come,” she exclaimed. “Whatever I 
have to do or to suffer, it is only a work before I 
go away. The hour will doubtless come. Sooner 
or later, it will come. I am ready. I have lived.” 

The glow of the sunrise had fallen on the sweet, 
upturned face. Octavia slipped away. She had 
no wish to intrude upon thoughts so elevated. 


200 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


Claude and Louis were coming up the narrow 
path with some mountain parsley in their hands for 
Ursula. As they encountered Octavia, their faces 
brightened. 

“We have been talking it over,” they said. 

Octavia had only been conscious of one thought. 
Andrew was better. Then the glory of the newly- 
risen sun took possession of her, to the forgetfulness 
of present environment. Now she felt a thrill — a 
tremulous movement — as if being wafted downward. 
What had the lads been talking over ? 

“ We have seen Andrew,” they once more began. 
“ He thinks he will go to-day, perhaps to-morrow ; 
and the sooner he goes, the better for us and for the 
poor people, if the Duke can be prevailed upon to 
spare them.” 

“ We must not blame the Duke of Savoy too se- 
verely ; and the heart of the good Duchess is with 
us. She believes reports coming to her from offi- 
cers appointed to rule over the people,” said Oc- 
tavia, with a willingness to excuse those who were 
led to depend upon false representations in making 
their decisions. 

The lads were standing with uncovered heads, 
looking away into the new world, created by the 
rising of the sun. It was a glorious symbol of the 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


201 


Sun of Righteousness bringing light and immor- 
tality to the universal brotherhood of men. 

As they reached the door of the hut, the Countess 
was there with her hands outstretched to her sons. 
Must she permit them to go from her? Tears filled 
her eyes. It w^as a long journey ; and what if any- 
thing should happen to them ? 

Ursula had her cakes baked ; but first she would 
surprise them by bringing Andrew out. 

“ Look ! ” she cried, as the sick man stood before 
them, clothed in a garb they had not seen. “ It was 
Bartol’s coat ; and it fits him exactly. And here’s 
a blanket,” displaying a square of heavy cloth, 
with a slit in the centre just large enough to admit 
the head to pass through.” 

She spoke quickly, as if anxious to rid herself of 
some oppression. In reality, she was only eager to 
know if they had decided to leave her house and 
not to return. 

Since Evrard had been with Ursula, he had 
singled out a lamb from the small flock, to be 
called, for the time being, his own. It was natural 
for the boy to have something to pet and to love ; 
and already the lamb answered to the name he had 
given it — “ Beauty.” It was always ready for the 
black crust he never failed to bring ; and in return, 


202 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


there was a cup of milk for his mother every 
morning. 

“ Evrard will stay. Evrard will not leave us/* 
as she dropped her large brown hand over Beauty’s 
neck ; but in reality it was to the Countess she was 
speaking. She was herself a mother, and she knew 
how a mother must feel to see her sons go from her 
on such an errand. Yes, a mother ; and she had 
been a wife. And her husband had defended him- 
self, and had died rather than turn his back upon 
the faith. That was something she was proud of. 
Only it was hard. God knew it was hard. This 
was comfort — he knew it. And just because it was 
hard, he would help her to bear it. She had his word 
for it. It was a draft she could take to the Father, 
and every time when presented it would be honored. 

The day passed as all the days passed ; only Oc- 
tavia did not climb to the heights. The Countess 
was still wearing Ursula’s gown. 

“ I shall finish it to-day,” Blanche said, in refer- 
ence to the new one. “And, if you go over the 
mountains, it will be strong, and the rocks will not 
catch hold of it and keep you back,” she said to 
Octavia. 

“ By all means,” said Ursula. “ There is a com- 
fort in new clothes.^ 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


203 


“ Everywhere a woman has pride in new clothes,’* 
thought Octavia. “ Ursula is made happy with a 
new dress, and so is the queen ; the difference is in 
the material.” 

It was not the night for the regular meeting to- 
gether of the poor people. “ But we go to-mor- 
row,” Octavia said, as she entered the humble 
abode, and made known to the inmates that she was 
about to leave them. 

“ But you will come back again ? ” they asked. 

“Our times are in God’s hand. Whatever his 
will may be, it is for me strictly to adhere to it,” was 
the reply. 

“Will you’ go to Turin?” was questioned. 

“ Not to Turin ; but to the hamlet, Boudrina, 
where an old servitor of the house at Caragli lies 
dangerously ill.” 

“ That is a good errand ! ” was the exclamation. 
“ We will pray to God for you, and, if he sees best, 
you will come back; and he will see best, if the 
blessed children ask him.” 

“Alas! if the soldiers return!” thought Octa- 
via, an involuntary shudder visible in her face. 

“They were driven. It was a great victory,” 
said Ursula, seeming to understand the inmost 
thought of the young girl. 


204 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


Returoing to the hut, Octavia stopped at a small 
spring gushing from the base of a rock, and, dip- 
ping her hands, bathed her face, and shook the 
glittering drops from her finger tips. Everything 
was cool and pure and sweet. A bird was hanging 
on a branch overhead, and a slender stalk of blue- 
bells swung lightly in the breeze. 

“ God is good,” she murmured ; “ the air, the 
water, and the flower, are for us to use and to 
enjoy. Not a spot so barren that he forgets it — a 
pebble, a glittering sand, a flower — something to 
remind us of his love. Not a soul so desolate that 
his sympathy does not find it out. He knows, and 
will answer if we ask him.” 

Andrew was sitting on the step with Bartol’s 
coat on. 

“ It is a comfort ; that was an ugly rent in mine ; 
not enough left of it to make even Franz a coat,” 
he said. Franz was Ursula’s boy. 

Andrew was not yet strong enough for the jour- 
ney ; but he felt that he must go. 

“We will take the glass,” he said. “We can 
see a long distance then, and if danger menaces, we 
can better meet it.” 

Octavia did not like to think of danger. In her 
heart it was right to go ; and, if right, God would 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


205 


go with them, to lead them into secure paths, and 
his hand would defend them. 

The daylight was fading, and gigantic shadows 
clung to the base of the mountains. The strip of 
brown earth before Ursula’s door had been swept 
clean. It was the last night that the people in the 
hamlet would gather there for the purpose of hear- 
ing Octavia read the Scriptures. Since their pastor 
had been driven away, it had been an especial priv- 
ilege for them to listen to the young girl ; and they 
w'ere grateful, and felt what a loss it would be now 
she was to go from them. Would God remember 
them and send another? Their hearts were well- 
nigh broken when the pastor prayed with them for 
the last time ; then another came ; and now will he 
send a third to stimulate them in the path he would 
have them tread ? One by one they came, sad- 
dened, but still hopeful. But to see Andrew 
Monteil, was to open all wounds ; for husbands and 
fathers had been in the conflict, and some of them 
had died of their wounds, others had been tortured, 
and still others sent to the galleys. 

The Countess came out when all were assembled, 
and took a seat on the bench by the door. She 
had taken off* Ursula’s gown, and had put on her 
own garments. To protect herself from the night 


206 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


air, she covered her head with a black handker- 
chief, that brought into prominence the white pallor 
of her cheeks, and the sad expression of her large, 
dark eyes. Evrard pressed up to her side, and 
held her hand tenderly. Claude and Louis stood 
near her. Ursula gazed at the group, and wiped 
her eyes on the corner of her white apron. 

“ One can see that she weeps all the time,” she 
said to her neighbor. And now her boys are to 
go to Turin ; and it is possible that they will never 
get there.” 

“ It is all the same, the sorrow,” said the neigh- 
bor. “This woman is a Countess, and she weeps 
over the loss of her husband and her home. We 
are nothing but poor folk, and our grief is the 
same. Husband, and home, and now children, all 
gone. When one loses everything, it cannot be 
worse.” 

There was no reply, and soon again Octavia was 
reading, and the small group was listening with 
radiant faces. Closing the roll, she touched upon 
the compassion of Jesus, the tenderness of his love, 
manifested in his works; his sympathy in taking 
upon himself the burden, and saying to the sorrow- 
ing soul, “ Come unto me ; rest, poor soul ; rejoice 
in thy God. ‘Ye are the salt of the earth. Ye 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


207 


are the light of the world/” “This,” she said, 
“ was the language made use of by the Son of God 
to Christians ; men obscure by birth, unknown to 
the great world, and not unfrequently hunted down 
like wild beasts ; tortured, and burned at the stake.” 
Then again she read : “ But let none of you suffer 
as a murderer ; or, as a thief; or, as an evil doer ; 
or, as a busy-body in other men’s matters. Yet, 
if any man suffer as a Christian, let him not be 
ashamed, but let him glorify God on this behalf. 
. . . Wherefore let them that suffer according to 
the will of God, commit the keeping of their souls 
to him in well doing, as unto a faithful Creator.” 

It was an occasion for questions to be asked, and 
answers to be given. Andrew Monteil spoke of the 
peril he had been in, and the comfort he had expe- 
rienced in thinking that God did not forget his 
necessity. When most he needed it, God sent relief. 

“ It is the way always, I think,” he said, his plain 
face lighting up with the fervor of an enlightened 
soul. “ Whenever we are in positive want, God is 
quick to supply that want. *I will never leave 
thee,’ he says, ‘nor forsake thee.’ All others may, 
but God will not.” 

The women spoke of the help it was to them to 
feel in the morning that God had kept them free 


208 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


from alarm at a time when their brethren in the 
valleys w’ere harassed on every side. 

Only the Countess did not open her lips. How 
could she ? To live without her boys ! She must 
not let her thoughts dwell upon it. Leaning upon 
her God, she must endure it, and not let her heart 
grow cold and hard under it Ursula saw the 
struggle. She thought it was time to separate. 

“ It is good to be here, and we have been 
strengthened by it,” she said, rising to her feet. 
“ But sleep is also good. Some of us are to go, and 
some to stay ; but sleep we must all have.” 

The women went away so quickly, that it seemed 
as though they melted into the night. The Countess 
kissed her boys, and tottered back to her room. 

Soon the inmates of the hut were asleep. All 
save Octavia ; she was awake, and restless. The 
moon was in her full, and the valleys and the rocks 
were a marvel of beauty. She was glad to have it 
thus on the last night ; and gazing outward, waves 
of calm, sweet content rolled over her. Going 
away, she would carry the memory of this evening 
with her. Then she slept, with the smile of God 
around her, and the moon sailing calmly through 
the heavens. 


CHAPTER XX. 

BURIAL BT TORCH-LIGHT. 

npHE sun was just flushing the mountains, when 
Ursula struck thrice on the house door with 
the new walking-stick she had just cut for Octavia. 
The Countess was soon up and dressed, and the 
lads were ready before Andrew and Octavia came 
to join them. The latter had been to say good-bye 
to some sick people, who could not come to the 
gathering the night previous; and to each she 
carried a piece of her carving, something that they 
could look at, and recall the time when she was 
with them. The Countess was very pale; but 
wisely restrained tears. Octavia had put on her 
new dress and the strong shoes. 

“ How handsome she looks ! ” Ursula said, aloud. 
And she called the Countess and Blanche to see 
“how much a good dress can beautify one.” 

The dress was patterned after Ursula’s. This 
accounted for the pleasing effect, perhaps. Ursula 
was not one to know when to stop chattering. 
Always the soft patter of words was heard, like 

the falling of an April rain. 

O 209 


210 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


“We must have our last prayer together,” 
Octavia said. She knew this would comfort the 
Countess and lads more than anything else; and 
kneeling before the door, with their faces to the 
glorious East, they thanked God for the safety of 
the night, and invoked his presence to go with 
them, and his protecting power to remain over 
those who were to be left behind. 

Then the Countess and Evrard went back to the 
small room, and stood gazing, through tears, after 
the dear ones from whom they had just parted. 

“And now, mother, you must not grieve,” said 
the child. “God can show them a path that the 
enemy will not find. He will go with them. We 
have asked him, and he will remain with us. We 
have his promise, and now we must be happy.” 

The mother could only kiss the fair, upturned 
brow. God saw it all ; he knew the parting from 
her brave boys well nigh broke her heart. 

Ursula endeavored to go about the house as 
usual, but she made many mistakes, unconsciously. 
At length she went to the Countess and told how 
she had last seen them over her right shoulder. 
And this was a sign that they would reach their 
destination in safety. 

“ Whatever one sees, for the first time or the last 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


211 


time, over the right shoulder, is sure to come to 
a good ending. I have never known it to fail, and 
you can rest easy,” said the woman, with well- 
meant effort to comfort the Countess. 

“ Is a belief in signs common to the people in the 
mountains ? ” asked the Countess, anxious for any- 
thing that would distract her thoughts, and help 
her to a quicker command of herself. 

“ Certainly I and why not ? My mother was a 
wise woman; and her mother before her was a 
wise woman. And I have been told that always in 
my grandmother’s family, before a death, a star 
would fall; or a bird would fly in at the window 
and sing a few notes that, rightly interpreted, 
meant that some one living under that roof would 
die before the year closed. Oh yes. I have many 
times remarked this in my good man’s life. Bertol 
was often making journeys, and I noticed that when 
I looked after him, and saw him, as if by accident, 
over my right shoulder, he always came back to 
me. The last time, alas ! I saw him over my left 
shoulder. From that moment I knew how it would 
be” — soil tears falling as she spoke. 

With seeming acceptance of signs and their im- 
port, the Countess screened her tear-swollen eyes, 
by twisting the black handkerchief round her head, 


212 


VILLANOVA-SOLAKO. 


and walked along the shelving ledges that led to 
the vineyard. From the hut door she could see 
that Blanche and Evrard were there. Now that 
Claude and Louis were absent, there would be 
more for them to do. 

“And this is right, perhaps. When one is obliged 
to labor, he cannot give himself up to grief; for 
too much depends upon him, and so work brings a 
blessing” — the Countess was saying, as she dropped 
easily from one ledge to another. 

As the sun climbed higher, the rugged sides of 
the mountain were brought out in full relief, and 
the paths could be distinctly traced. To avoid sus- 
picion, the travelers fell back one after another, 
allowing several rods to lie between them, and then 
clinging to the low growth, and becoming, to all ap- 
pearances, a part of it — thus escaping a stray shot, 
provided a soldier was holding his watch there. 

At midday they came upon a small enclosure, 
surrounded by rocks. The sunshine lay at the bot- 
tom, like a cloth of gold ; the sides of the rock 
were green with clinging vines ; and on the thin 
soil at the top, a tree stood leaning, like a green 
canopy, through which the sunshine sifted gen- 
erously. 

“ We must rest here,” Andrew said. 


VILLANOVA'SOLARO. 


213 


The small company had not for hours spoken a 
word; now they were free. Octavia stood with 
bright eyes and flushed cheeks. 

“ What a place to rest in ! ” she said, gazing with 
admiration upon the enclosure. 

“We can spread a table!” exclaimed the lads, 
as they came upon a half-circular ledge, with a 
raised platform below, that would answer for a seat. 

Ursula had provided them with various articles 
of food for their journey. When these were placed 
on the ledge, Andrew said : “ Thus far God has 
protected us ; ” and with uncovered head, he craved 
a blessing on the simple fare. 

Sitting in the shade of the overhanging boughs, 
Octavia and the lads ate with a relish stimulated 
by their long walk and rapid climbing. Andrew, 
on the contrary, could hardly taste a morsel. 
Climbing the narrow, precipitous path, irritated his 
wound. It was evident that he could not go on. 
After luncheon, it was deemed advisable to remain 
w^here they were until another day. 

Stripping the vines from the rocks, and bringing 
such leaves as they could gather, a bed was made 
for the wounded man, and he was left to rest, while 
the others watched the distant passes until sunset. 
Then Octavia, folded in purple shadows, ventured 


214 


VILLANOVA^OLAEO. 


to stray from the enclosure. The moon was rising 
over the valley, and the stars showed a peculiar 
brilliancy. Claude had seen Octavia as she left the 
enclosure, and he hastened to meet her. 

“There is much of God’s works up here in the 
mountains,” he said. “ The peaks stand out clearly, 
and the stars are larger. How many thoughts rush 
in upon us! Are these glittering orbs the many 
mansions prepared for those who love God? Do 
they, the poor people who are struck down for their 
faith — do their spirits go at once to these mansions ? 
Wherever we look, the earth upon which we dwell 
seems in comparison so very small. Still, upon this 
very earth was enacted one of the grandest dramas 
that heaven ever knew. The Son of God, who was 
made flesh, lived here just as we live. The sight 
brings no new thoughts” — ^gazing into the blue arch 
above him, and then away to the dim, distant 
valleys. “It all resolves itself into this. There 
is so much that speaks of God up here in the 
mountains ! ” 

Octavia was gazing upward in the same manner. 
She was saying to herself: “There is Orion, and 
there the Pleiades.” In the old days she had 
studied the heavens as a science. She could trace 
the constellations and knew their course. Were 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


215 


they worlds, as Claude had questioned? God 
created them, and his hand held them. It was 
God who hung the round world “ upon nothing.” 
It was God, and this God was her God. He was 
bending over her, and he loved her. These worlds 
were his creations. She was his adoption, a child, 
and an heir ; his by the purchase of his Son ; neither 
could anything take her out of his hands. 

“ God has not permitted us to know,” she said, at 
length. “‘I go to prepare a place for you,’ is 
assurance sufficient to satisfy faith that springs from 
love. Heaven is a place prepared for the final 
gathering of all those who love God. It is real. 
We can think of it as one thinks of home.” 

From gazing at the stars, Claude’s eyes were 
caught by zigzag flashes along the valley. In- 
stantly he took alarm. Had they been seen during 
the day ? And were soldiers already on their track ? 

Summoning Louis, there was a short conference ; 
then the lads, leaving Octavia to apprise Andrew, 
according to their signal, slipped silently along the 
brown cliffs ; swinging themselves along when they 
came to the face of the rock, and thus dropping 
noislessly to the lower ledges. 

“ List ! ” cried Claude. “ There are voices ! ” 

A low, dirge-like sound was now perceptible. 


216 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


Then the broken line made a halt, and closed in a 
hollow square. 

“It is a burial;’’ whispered Louis. “And they 
are singing a hymn. Some one whom they love is 
dead.” 

The words sounded strangely solemn ; the lads 
bowed their heads. 

“ To be obliged to bury one’s friends in this way ! 
It is as if one was a criminal, and was afraid to 
have men see him. This must be a Vaudois, and 
they are making the grave at night through fear of 
the priest,” was whispered. 

Again the weird music of the hymn sounded 
along the slopes ; then the line of march w’as once 
more taken, and gradually, as they looked, the 
torches faded into the night, and the solitude was 
unbroken. 

To gain the enclosure was a more serious under- 
taking than the descent had been. They could not 
go up the face of the rocks, and to find a path re- 
quired time. Besides, there was a fear, lest they 
in turn would be seen outlined against the clear 
sky. When they reached the height, their hands 
w’ere torn and bleeding. Octavia was keeping 
watch, and Andrew still slept. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


TEE FIRST STAGE IN THE JOURNEY. 

N the following morning Andrew professed 



himself to be stronger. After their morning 
meal, and their united prayer to God, they once 
more set out. A mist veiled the sun, and hung in 
heavy folds over the valley. Not a breath rustled 
the leaves ; the birds clung to protecting branches. 
At noon the mist changed into a pouring rain, and 
presently rapid little streams ran across the path, 
and gurgled and plashed down the mountain side. 

Octavia, with the help of her Alpine staff, walked 
quietly forward. Claude and Louis were always 
near. It w^as harder for Octavia than for them, 
and likewise it would be easier for Andrew not to 
have any anxiety on her account. The journey to 
Boudrina was not long ; but it was difficult. Their 
care had been to avoid observation, and the paths 
they had chosen were unfrequented, save by the 
chamois and the wild goats. 

Independent of the rain, they mounted up higher 
and higher. The clouds pressed closely upon them ; 


217 


218 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


the valleys looked like a great deep. Then they 
began to descend; the path was slippery, and the 
ledges precipitous. Claude now took the advance. 
Night was coming on, and Andrew was obliged to 
rest a little. 

“ My head reels, and I am in danger of falling,” 
he said, plaintively. 

Octavia removed her blanket, and flung it over 
his shoulders. 

“ Now we can steady you a little,” straightening 
the blanket and bringing the ends behind him. 
“You will find it a great help to you. This is the 
way we help children to walk,” she said, laughing 
lightly at the same time. 

But for the laughing it is possible that Andrew 
would not have accepted such assistance; but the 
hamlet was not now far away, and he longed to see 
Susanna and the children. 

Descending, they were still on high ground. The 
mist and the rain was on the increase. They could 
only see a few yards before them. 

“ Here are way-marks ; we must be at home 
presently,” Andrew said. Then he stopped, and 
endeavored to penetrate the thick, gray wall. There 
was a shout from below ; men were crying out to 
each other. 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


219 


“ Halloo ! ” shouted Andrew. 

“ Halloo ! ” came back to them. 

“ It is Jean. We are at home,” said Andrew. 

The hut was soon visible. Andrew told Claude 
to go in advance and open the door, so that Su- 
sanna would know they were coming. Mina was 
standing before the hut. Susanna had just finished 
the milking. She gave them a glad welcome, 

“ It is for the sick man,” she said, “ but he’s 
fallen asleep. I think you all need it. Take it. 
He shall have some when he wakens.” 

She passed the cup to each, without at once seeing 
that Andrew’s face was ghastly pale, and that it was 
something beside the rain that rendered his move- 
ments slow and strained. Then she went out and 
gathered an armful of pine-knots, and soon a gentle 
heat was felt, and the wet clothes were drying. 

“ A new coat and a good one ! ” exclaimed Su- 
sanna, as she helped her husband to remove the wet 
garment. “ But why the necessity ? How came you 
to think of a new one ? ” 

Andrew staggered to the bed. The heat and the 
exhaustion was too much for him. 

“ I see ! I see ! You are wounded ; you are 
dying ! ” screamed the woman, dropping the coat, 
and going over to her husband. 


220 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


“ Calm yourself, good wife. I am not dying. It 
was a random shot, and I fell” — stopping abruptly, 
and throwing a pleading look over to Octavia. 

The latter had been to look upon the face of Ar- 
naud, the huntsman. How it all came back as she 
stood by his low couch ! The castle, massive in its 
strength and beauty ; the ease and refinement ; the 
scholarly attainments of the guests ; the noble con- 
versation of her brothers; and last, the hunter with 
his troop of pages, falcons, hawks, and bells. Is it 
possible ? There he lies, with his master dead, and 
the family scattered ! Without knowing it, she was 
weeping. 

The sick man opened his eyes ; they rested upon 
Octavia’s face. A brightness crept over his coun- 
tenance; his fingers moved nervously. There was 
recognition, and then unconsciousness. 

The sound of the rain died away on the roof, 
and the heavens, that had been all day hidden, 
were full of silver lamps. Through the low 
windows the pure light of a distant star fell across 
the sick man’s pillow. Octavia was holding one 
of his hands, while Claude and Louis were kneeling 
by his couch and weeping. 

“ Do not weep. I have seen you. I can now die 
in peace,” was said, faintly. 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


221 


Susanna was standing outside. She had no wish 
to disturb them; still, Arnaud was her patient. 
She opened just a little crack in the door and 
looked in. Then she went back to Andrew. 

“ His pale face is not as it has been. There is the 
look on it of one who is taking leave of everything.” 

“ Tell me of your mother and Evrard ?” the sick 
man was saying to Claude. 

There was no sleep in the hut. Andrew, weary 
as he was, could not be persuaded to close his eyes. 
The messenger was at the door, though they could 
not bar his entrance. 

Susanna kept herself busy. 

“ When the mother was ill, I knew the remedies ; 
and it comforted her. It is not so with wounded 
men, and there is the anxiety. One wants to do ; 
but nothing can be done.” 

Andrew answered, that his wound was not 
dangerous. 

“ God be thanked ! ” cried Susanna. “ It is very 
strange, but we cannot know why the good Lord 
allows his children to be shot down like wild 
beasts; while them that’s not shot are tortured, 
and their groans go up before him.” 

“Hush! Susanna, hush!” said Andrew, faintly. 
“It is the trial of our faith — 'being much more 


222 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be 
tried with fire, might be found unto praise and 
honor and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ.’ ” 

“I know,” sobbed Susanna. “But I think of 
the terrible suffering, and I say to myself — and I 
can’t help saying it — ‘Could I bear it and not deny 
his name ’ ? Peter was afraid of the torture, and he 
denied.” 

“But he never did again. You must remember 
that. He never did again,” was the response. 

“But could I do it?” persisted Susanna. 

“ I trust you will never be put to the test,” said 
Andrew, tenderly. “ But if you are, I do not think 
you are one to deny Christ.” 

“You have faith in me. And Christ has faith in 
me. And I have wanted to have faith in myself. 
But I must have faith in God. If he does not 
leave me, then I know that I would not do it. 
Now I feel stronger. Now I will try never to 
think this way again,” looking brightly into her 
husband’s face. 

Andrew went into the sick room, and came out 
with a grave face. 

“The poor man is near his home. He has no 
need of remedies. The good Lord has him by the 
hand. If you would see him, Susanna, come.” 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


223 


The lads were still kneeling by the couch, and 
Octavia was occasionally repeating a promise. 
Susanna and Andrew kneeled at the foot of the 
bed. Gradually the light of a new day streamed 
into the room, and the face of the sick man revealed 
the peace that passeth understanding. 

Susanna drew the sheet over the white, still 
face. 

“It was so when the mother died,” she said. 
“ The sun was shining, and the swallows were twit- 
tering on the roof, and it seemed strange. Now it’s 
not strange ; death is only the door through which 
one must pass into the new life.” Susanna was not 
one to keep silence. She must speak her thoughts. 
“My mother’s was a beautiful death,” she con- 
tinued, “ and this is a beautiful death. There was 
no choking ; and when he went, none of us could 
say. I do not think I shall ever again fear. A 
death like this is only the blowing out of a candle, 
to be lighted on the other side.” 

Susanna came from the room, and stood by the 
side of her husband. 

“ It was a beautiful death, and we must see that 
everything is handsomely done.” 

“ Berger made the mother’s coffin ; he will make 
this, if we ask him,” said Andrew. 


224 


VILLANOVA-SOLAKO. 


‘‘We will ask him. Stop; I will go myself. It 
will save you, and Berger has his ways.” 

As twilight gathered the next evening, the 
people of the hamlet assembled on the level plat 
before Andrew’s door. Susanna insisted that the 
lads and Octavia should each drive a nail into the 
coffin. “ Not every one who died could have such 
a good coffin,” she said. 

The women pressed nearer. Many of their own 
had been buried coffinless. It made them weep. 
Octavia opened the roll, that she always carried in 
the folds of her dress, and read a few verses in a 
distinct voice. Then Andrew made a brief prayer, 
and the coffin was low^ered into the ground by the 
side of the house mother. 

“ Now it is over,” said Susanna, as they turned 
back to the hut; “now it is over, and we must 
think of the lads, and the journey they are to take. 
There is no more fear for Arnaud. The lads are to 
leave us; and it will be like sending two lambs 
where the wolves can pounce upon them at any 
time.” 

“ Hush, Susanna. We must not stir up a host 
of fears. God will care for them. It is a noble 
errand. They go to implore clemency for the 
people,” exclaimed Andrew. 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


225 


“ And what does the Duke of Savoy care for the 
poor people? He has promised us before this. 
His promises are ropes of mist ; they will not bear 
the weight of his little finger.” 

“ The good Duchess may listen to them,” was the 
reply. 

“ And she may not,” insisted Susanna. 

Octavia was coming along the path, with Claude 
and Louis on each side. Andrew went forth to 
meet them, without stopping to answer his wife. 


P 


CHAPTER XXIL 

THE DESERTED VILLAGE. 

I T had not been Octavia’s purpose to remain at 
the hut after Arnaud had ceased to need her 
service; hut the rumor of fresh alarms in the 
valleys, and the fear lest suspicion might fall upon 
the lads as they journeyed to Turin, constrained 
her to delay her departure for a few days. Added 
to this came a request from the people in the 
hamlet. 

It is so long since we had a pastor,” they said ; 
“ and now that you are with us again, we can have 
meetings, and you will read to us, and lead us in 
prayer.” 

Susanna joined in this request, and Andrew was 
not willing to see her set out, without some one to 
go with her. And thus she consented to remain 
until some one could be found who was traveling 
in that direction. 

It was a hard thing for the lads to say good-bye ; 
but the hope of bringing a reprieve to the poor 
people, persecuted because of their loyalty to the 

Bible, stimulated them to bear bravely. 

226 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


227 


“We feel that it is right for us to go. The Duke 
will listen to us. He knew our father, and he 
knows that we do not come of a stock given to 
pervert the truth,” said Claude, proudly. 

With minute instructions from Andrew as to the 
way, they set out. At the close of the second day 
they halted at a hamlet that bore little evidence of 
being inhabited ; dwellings were unroofed ; doors 
broken down, and walls shattered. The street pre- 
sented a revolting spectacle, and the wrecks of 
households spoke sadly to their hearts. 

As they reached the last dwelling, without so 
much as meeting an individual, they came suddenly 
upon a man with a bundle of fagots on his shoul- 
ders. His surprise was greater than theirs, and his 
first thought seemed to be to run away. 

“We are but wayfarers,” said Claude; “and if 
we may judge from appearances, this is a Vaudois 
village, and the soldiers have driven the poor people 
away, killing them outright, as heretics, or deliver- 
ing them over to torture to satisfy the demand of 
Papal Power.” 

“ Are you Vaudois ?” asked the poor man, letting 
fall his fagots, while a certain animation showed 
itself in his before stolid face. 

“We believe in the Bible; we confess to God, 


228 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


and ask him for everything we desire, for Christ’s 
sake.” 

“ Then I will say it ; and I was afraid to say it. 
In times like this it’s not safe to speak out. Our 
enemies are not all soldiers. The priests hate us; 
and if they can find a Bible, they make it a pre- 
text, and complain that the people are revolu- 
tionary, and not loyal to the reigning Prince.” 

The man was showing unusual intelligence. Pos- 
sibly it was a snare. And Claude repented that he 
had spoken so freely. The next remark quieted 
him, however, while Louis’ face was free from the 
agitation he had previously shown. 

“This is the venture I dared to make,” said 
the man. “Our women are still hidden away, 
and the children are crying for food. I felt that 
I must see if anything could be found in our old 
home.” 

Kindling a fire with the fagots he had brought 
for that purpose, they warmed themselves, and the 
lads prepared to go on. 

“ If you will stay, you are welcome. There is a 
little meal in the barrel, and water in the spring,” 
said the man, with a warmth that won them to ac- 
cept of his hospitality, scant as it was. 

Eating their parched meal, and drinking pure 
\ 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 229 

water from the spring, the man spoke once more of 
the late conflict. 

“ I was with the others ; we were doing our best 
to drive back our enemies, when I was struck down. 
They thought I was dead, and kicked me one side. 
Then the wind blew in my face, and I revived, and, 
by-and-by, I could get up ; and now I am here. It 
is a miracle, many would call it ; but God kept me.” 

Together, they went through other dwellings. It 
w^as desolation ; everything available had been car- 
ried away or destroyed. When they returned to 
the Are, the man said : 

“It's a strange thing; there are faces that we 
meet for the flrst time, and they are like the faces 
of friends. We know they are not the same; and 
still we look at them and recall other times. In 
looking into your faces, I am strongly reminded of 
Caragli.” 

“Caragli!” exclaimed Claude, as if he had not 
rightly understood. 

“Caragli! Yes. You may have heard, per- 
haps, of the seigneurs of Solaro. They were de- 
fenders of the church in Caragli; and they suffered 
the loss of their estates. I knew them in my young 
days; and one of them I heard from not long 
since. ' 


230 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


Will you tell us, if you please. We are inter- 
ested in hearing anything in connection with 
Caragli,” said Claude, with great command of 
himself. 

“ There were six brothers ; this was the fourth, I 
think, Sebastian. When the Count left Caragli, 
this brother went to the valley of Lucerna. He 
was not permitted to live there in peace. One 
evening, as he was walking before his door, several 
gentlemen, strangers to him, came out of a small 
hostelry and accosted him. After some trivial 
remarks, one of the strangers asked if he was one 
of the religion ? 

“ ‘ I am,’ he answered. 

“ ‘ Do you believe that Christ is in the host? ’ 

“ ‘ No,’ was the reply. 

“‘What a false religion yours is!’ exclaimed 
another of the gentlemen, who until then had been 
silent. 

‘“False, sir?’ replied Solaro. ‘Our religion is 
true. The Bible is our guide ; Jesus Christ is our 
Saviour ; the Holy Spirit is our Comforter. Our 
creed is very simple ; to love God, and to obey him.’ 

“‘But you are not simple,’ was said, bitterly. 
‘You know too well how to spread your vile doc- 
trines. Have a care; the Archbishop has found 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 231 

you out ; doubtless you will hear from him in 
time/ 

“ The next day Solaro was arrested and cast into 
prison,” continued the narrator. 

The cry of a night bird on the roof startled 
them. The lads were about to rush to the door ; 
the man drew them back. 

“ I will see what it is. If they kill me, you will 
have time to save yourselves.” 

It was nothing, however. The man returned, and 
went on with his narrative ; 

“ The third day they brought him a book written 
by a priest, and intended to overthrow the religion 
of the evangelists. Then the Bishop caused him 
to appear before him. The prison was in the 
Bishop’s house — more shame to him. Sitting in 
his grand apartments, and this noble Christian 
man loaded with irons. The Bishop pretended to 
receive him with very great courtesy, and to be 
ready at once to set him at liberty. 

“^Only acknowledge your error, and return to 
the true church,’ he said. 

“‘I am now in the true church. I cannot re- 
nounce my convictions. The Bible is my guide, 
and I must follow its teachings.’ 

“ ‘ Think of all that your house has suffered. If 


232 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


you promise to renounce your heresy, I will see 
that you are re-instated in your possessions. 

‘ My inheritance is where you cannot reach it,^ 
was the reply. 

“‘Do you know what you are saying?' came 
fiercely. ‘ Have you no regard for your life ? ' 

“ ‘ Jesus says, “ He who will save his life shall 
lose it." I cannot deny him.' 

“ ‘ Have you nothing that binds you to earth ? 
Yours was once a noble family. Can you be so 
headstrong as to wantonly lose everything ? ' 

“ ‘ Everything, if need be, but Christ,' was the 
answer. 

“ ‘Away with him ! ' said the Bishop to the 
guards ; and the poor man was immured in his cell 
until such time as the Bishop might desire his 
recall." 

“ It was a severe test," said Claude, who was 
anxious to learn all that the man knew of the case ; 
and still he was on his guard. It would be of no 
practical use to make himself known ; the journey 
was still before him ; and if, from any cause, suspi- 
cion should rest upon them, he did not wish this 
man to be brought as a witness against them. 

“A test ! Yes, and God helped him," said the 
man. “ I’ve stood the test myself, and I've been 


VILLANOVA-SOLAKO. 


233 


helped. If it’s ever yours, young man, he’ll help 
you.” 

“Did the Bishop again call for the prisoner?” 
was ashed. 

“ The very question I asked. You see I was in- 
terested. I knew who he was,” returned the man. 
“ The Bishop had him up several times. Once his 
Secretary brought the prisoner down to the terrace. 

“ ‘ See you that building that stands by itself? ’ 
he asked. 

“ ‘ I see it.’ 

It is a prison.’ 

“‘Well.’ 

“ ‘ It is thirty years since I came to this palace.’ 

“ ‘ What has that to do with yonder prison ? ’ was 
questioned. 

“ ‘ Listen ! One day there fell into our hands a 
heretic. He was said to be of noble birth,’ said the 
officer, dropping his voice. 

“ ‘And you released him ? ’ was asked. 

“‘No.’ 

“ ‘ What then ? ’ 

“ ‘ He was walled up over there, and a little 
nourishment was given him through an opening in 
the wall.’ 

“ ‘ What became of him ? ’ 


234 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


“ ‘ They forgot to give him his nourishment after 
a time. And now they are making the place ready 
for another, if he persists in being obstinate.^ ” 

“ Is it possible ! ” groaned Claude. 

“ To tell the truth, I never had anything take 
hold of me as this did. You see he was from 
Caragli,” said the man, without seeming to notice 
any unusual emotion on the part of his listeners. 

It was late. The lads were shown into a little 
chamber under the roof. Weary as they were, they 
could not sleep, because of the intelligence they had 
just received, and the terrible suffering that con- 
fronted them on every side. They were going on a 
perilous journey. The Duke of Savoy, while he 
had seeming power, was, in reality, unable to carry 
out his merciful designs with regard to the people 
of the valleys. The good Duchess could only be- 
seech and pray. She could not command. 

Clasping each other’s hands and thanking God 
that they were still together, the youths talked of 
their mother, Octavia, and Evrard. A ray of light 
crept in through a crevice in the thatched roof, and, 
looking up, they saw a star. 

“God’s eye is still keeping watch,” Louis said. 
“ God will care for mother, and he will defend us. 
Do not be troubled. We are safe with him. And, 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


235 


if we do not succeed with the Duke, and the same 
severities are meted out to God’s children, he will 
regard our good intent ; he will see that we were 
willing to make the attempt.” 

With the star still shining upon them through 
the roof, they slept. 


CHAPTER XXIIL 

PIUS JF. SENDS A LEGATE TO THE VALLEYS. 

riTHE monks of the Abbey of Pignerol had in 
their pay a troop of plunderers, whose occu- 
pation was to pillage, beat, and kill the poor people, 
and to bring prisoners to the Abbey, both men and 
women. Of these, some were cruelly burned alive, 
and others sent to the galleys, and some few released 
for a ransom. 

The minister of Rioclaret (the valley of the clear 
stream) was signaled as their next victim. While 
he was preaching, they came under the guise of 
simple hearers. Their object was to have the 
captain of the troops bring his force to the place 
of worship, and while he sounded his clarion, his 
emissaries in the audience would rush upon the 
pastor and drag him away. 

The troop attempted this, and was repulsed ; the 
leader, a man of great stature, vigorous and armed 
with mail, was in danger of losing his life. On 
account of liis rank, however, he was spared ; but 

his nature was base : instead of being grateful, he 
236 V 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


237 


was tenfold more bitter. Drawing off his troop, 
he determined to take vengeance upon the hamlet. 
Accordingly, before daylight he returned to Rio- 
claret with a troop more numerous than the former, 
broke open the doors, attacked the inhabitants, and 
ravaged the whole hamlet. The people, suddenly 
wakened from sleep, fled without clothes, without 
provisions, and without arms, to the mountain 
peaks, still covered with snow. The enemy pursued 
them, firing many shots at them with their arque- 
buses; afterward they came back to the deserted 
houses, took up their lodgings there, and made 
themselves comfortable, while those to whom the 
houses and provisions belonged were suffering from 
hunger and cold. They even asserted loudly that 
they would not permit them to return ; at least 
until they should promise to go to mass. 

Next day, an aged pastor, recently come from 
Calabria, made an attempt to visit and encourage 
the fugitives. The soldiers perceived him, pursued 
him, seized him, and delivered him to the monks 
of Pignerol, who caused him to be burned at the 
stake, with another prisoner from the valley of St. 
Martin. 

Meantime, the Vaudois of Pragela, having 
learned the unhappy condition of the brethren 


238 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


of Kioclaret, assembled all their available force 
and resolved to go to their rescue. Their pastor, 
named Martin, marched at the head of the troop. 
From time to time, as they advanced, he flung him- 
self upon his knees, with all his men, and prayed 
to God to give them the victory. Their prayer 
was heard. The weather was very gloomy, and it 
was nightfall when they reached the Kioclaret. 
The enemy had been apprised of their approach, 
and had made preparation to meet them; but a 
terrible storm, such that the Alps themselves 
seemed to be shaken when it burst upon their 
peaks, poured its fury upon the mountain at the 
moment when the action commenced. After an 
obstinate combat, the soldiers were driven from 
their position, and pursued into the ravines, where 
they wandered in darkness, and many of them 
were lost. 

Seeing that they could make nothing against 
a people determined not to yield one iota of their 
religious belief and opinions, the seigneurs of Le 
Perrier, Charles and Boniface Truchet, denounced 
the poor people as rebels, w^hose object it was to 
overthrow the existing government. 

Yielding to their perfidious suggestions, the Duke 
of Savoy authorized them to rebuild the fortifica- 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


239 


tions of Le Perrier, which had been destroyed, and 
to burden the Vaudois with compulsory labor. 

While these things were taking place in the 
valley of St. Martin, the Count of Kacconis was 
attempting to bring about like effects in Lucerna. 
With every appearance of friendliness, he attended 
the Vaudois church, and listened to the sermon with 
respectful attention. At the conclusion of the ser- 
vice he expressed a desire to see the proceedings 
against the Vaudois terminated. Induced by his 
words, the Vaudois sent to him a particular exposi- 
tion of their doctrines. A few weeks later he again 
appeared, and demanded of the syndics and pastors 
whether opposition would be made to the Duke’s 
causing mass to be sung in their parish. 

“ The Duke is free to have mass, if he desires it,” 
was the reply. 

“ Will you attend ? ” 

“No.” 

“ To go to mass is very little,” said the Count. 
“ The Duke has heard that you are rebellious and 
stiff-necked ; to go to mass will show him that you 
are still true and loyal subjects.” 

“ We are true and loyal subjects. We have 
always obeyed our Prince, and we are ready to lay 
down our lives for his sake,” was the answer. 


240 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


‘‘ Then go to mass/’ said the Count, curtly. 

‘‘ To go to mass is a matter of conscience. Much 
as we respect our Prince, we cannot sacrifice our 
religious principle. The Duke cannot demand this. 
He could not trust us, should he come to know that 
we are unfaithful to our convictions.” 

“ By such obstinacy you expose yourselves to 
great danger,” said the Count. 

There was no open act of violence at the time ; 
but all the adversaries of the Vaudois redoubled 
their insolence towards them. The mercenaries of 
the Abbey of Pignerol in particular carried on a 
lawless course of infuriate violence. 

At the time w'hen the harvest is reaped in Pied- 
mont, a number of the Vaudois people having gone, 
according to their custom, to work in the plain as 
reapers for hire, to earn a little money, they were 
all made prisoners at different places and times, 
without their knowing anything one of another. 
Then followed the harvest time in the mountains. 
One morning, the people being in their summer 
huts, heard some arquebuss shots in the direction 
of St. Germain, and a little after they perceived a 
troop of plunderers advancing toward them. Shout- 
ing to their companions, they formed themselves 
into two bands of fifty men each, one of which went 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


241 


higher up, and the other lower down upon the 
mountain. The latter were the first to come upon 
the assailing party, who were loaded and encum- 
, bered with booty ; and they put them to flight, and 
pursued them to the banks of the Clusone, where 
the half of them were drowned. 

The Count of Racconis, in the meantime, had 
transmitted to Rome the statement of their doc- 
trines which the Vaudois had given him. As they 
offered to abandon their doctrines if they were 
proved to be erroneous, and as they had never 
ceased to invoke discussion for this intent, it ap- 
peared only fair to give them the opportunity. 
But as this involved a question strictly ecclesi- 
astical, it was necessary to consult the head of the 
church; and the pontifical decision did not allow 
of such an innovation. 

“ I will never permit,” said the Pontiff*, that 
points which have been canonically decided, should 
be opened to discussion. The dignity of the church 
requires that every one submit himself to her con- 
stitutions, disputing nothing ; and the duty of my 
office is to proceed with all rigor against those who 
do not choose to be in subjection thereto.” 

The Pope would only consent to send to the val- 
leys a legate, who might absolve from all their 
Q 


242 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


past crimes those who should become Roman 
Catholics, and instruct them in their new duties, 
without controversy; that is to say, without their 
examining for themselves. 

Accordingly, the Governor of Fossane, by name 
Poussevin, was commissioned to establish in the 
Vaudois churches certain of the Brethren of Chris- 
tian Doctrine, under whose influence intellectual 
servility would soon have brought about that pre- 
cious submission so necessary to the Church of 
Rome. 

Poussevin repaired to the Castle of Cavour, situ- 
ated upon a solitary eminence, like a verdant pyra- 
mid in the midst of the plain, opposite to the valley 
of Lucerna. The castle belonged to the Count of 
Racconis, who was at that time likewise there. 

The Vaudois were invited to send representatives 
thither. They accordingly sent three. On their 
arrival at Cavour, the Governor acquainted them 
with his commission, and demanded if they would 
consent to hear the sermons which he proposed to 
preach in the valleys. 

“Yes,” they replied, “if you preach the word 
of God ; but if you preach the human traditions, 
which bring it to nought — No.” 

Poussevin did not seem to be offended at this 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 243 

frankness, and replied that he -would preach only 
the pure gospel. 

During this conference, a Vaudois of St. Germain 
had complained to the Count of Kacconis, that the 
people of Miradol had carried away his cattle, and 
had promised to return them to him upon payment 
of one hundred crowns, which he had gathered 
together with great difficulty. 

“ And have you sent them this sum ?” was asked. 

“ Yes ; but they have kept both the cattle and 
the money.” 

“ I commend you to Poussevin,” said the Count ; 
he will give you full and prompt justice.” 

“ You are an ill-bred fellow,” said Poussevin, in 
reply to the poor man’s request ; “ and if you had 
gone to mass, this would never have happened to 
you. And I can tell you,” he added, that this is 
only the commencement of what is in store for 
heretics.” 

Poussevin had a great reputation for eloquence, 
and doubtless supposed that his power of oratory, 
together with the assistance of the secular arm, 
would procure him the honor of a ready triumph 
over the consciences of these poor, good-natured 
Vaudois, who suffered themselves so readily to be 
imposed upon. 


244 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


Having announced that he would preach at 
Cavour, in order to set forth in public the object of 
his coming among them, he ascended the pulpit of 
the largest church in town, and said, in substance, 
that he was about to convict all the Vaudois pastors 
of heresy ; to expel them ; and to re-establish the 
mass in the valleys. The Protestants were not 
moved. The Koman Catholics, their neighbors and 
friends, actuated both by religious zeal and by 
natural affection, strongly urged them to become 
Romanists, in order to avoid the calamities with 
which they 'were threatened. 

After this, Poussevin invited the leading men of 
the Vaudois churches to a conference with him. 
Spreading before them the official letters, he said : 

“ Here is the statement of doctrines presented on 
your part ; do you acknowledge it ? ” 

“ Certainly,” was the reply. 

“ Then,” he continued, “ you are bound by this 
paper to repudiate your errors so soon as they shall 
be proved to you.” 

“ AVe again promise it,” came briefly. 

“ If that be the case, I will prove to you that the 
mass is to be found in the Holy Scriptures. Does 
not the word ‘missa’ signify sent?” 

“ Not exactly.” 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


245 


“Was not the expression, ‘Ite missa est,’ em- 
ployed to send away the audience?” 

“ That is true.” 

“ You see, then, that the mass is to be found in 
the Holy Scriptures.” 

The Vaudois respectfully replied, that he had 
made a mistake as to the word “ missa,” which 
was not to be found in the Scriptures with the 
sense which he had assigned to it; and that, there- 
fore, he could not prove the divine institution of 
the mass from it; also, that private masses, tran- 
substantiation, the denial of the cup to the laity, 
and many other things which were in dispute be- 
tween them, would by no means be justified by 
such a line of argument. 

“You are heretics!” he cried, in frenzy. “I 
have not come to hold discussions in this way, but 
to drive you out of the country, as you deserve.” 

With this, Poussevin retired into the Abbey of 
Pignerol, from whence he issued an order to the 
syndics of the several communes, that they must 
expel the pastors, and provide for the maintenance 
of the priests. 

The syndics sent a negative reply, couched in 
respectful terms, but absolute. 

Such was the situation at the time when Claude 


246 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


and Louis Solaro volunteered to carry a message to 
the Duke of Savoy. It was no ordinary under- 
taking ; but, with confidence in the Prince, and 
faith in God, they felt themselves equal to it. 

“ If we fail, God will know that we were willing 
to do what we felt to be right to do,” was the 
motive and the inspiration. 


V 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE CAPTURE AND THE ESCAPE. 


S day after day passed, the young travelers 



comforted themselves with the thought that 
they had thus far been guided safely; and each 
morning, with their hymn of praise and thanks- 
giving, went up a prayer, that a plain path might be 
opened for them. Thus, shunning that portion of 
the country where their enemies might be supposed 
to dwell, they advanced boldly, feeling that God 
was with them, and would be, even to the end. 

On the morning of the day that they had hoped 
W’ould be the last of their journey, they stopped at a 
spring that gushed from the base of an overhanging 
rock, and went rippling away in a thread of a 
stream that spread into a flat skein, and was lost 
in the pasture land below. Bathing their faces, and 
making themselves tidy, in anticipation of the time 
when they would present themselves before the 
Duke and Duchess, they failed to see a company of 
men who were climbing singly, and at length stood 
before them in full force. 


247 


248 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


The youths feigned not to be surprised; but at 
once accosted them as friends. The leader under- 
stood, at a glance, that they were far from belong- 
ing to the mountains. And after a few questions, 
which were answered prudently, he said that it 
would be his duty to detain them as prisoners. 

“You are going to Turin,” he said. “You desire 
to enter the service of the Duke of Savoy. He is 
ill, and does not see strangers.” 

“\Ye have reason to know that the Duke and the 
Duchess are looking for us. If you detain us, they 
will hold you answerable,” was said, manfully. 

“Tut! tut! how will they know who detained 
you ? ” cried the leader. 

“ Did I not say that we had good reason to know 
that our arrival is looked for this very evening? If 
we fail to arrive, it will not be a question to be 
dropped,” answered Claude. 

After a short parley with his men, the leader 
once more turned to the lads. 

“It is all plausible. Your business is with the 
Duke of Savoy. Castrocaro is a friend of the 
Duke ; we are acting under his orders. Doubtless, 
he will give you safe conduct to Turin, and like- 
wise will explain to the Duke satisfactorily the 

cause of your detention.” 

V 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


249 


The lads were then separated — one to walk in 
front, by the side of the leader, and the other to the 
rear — so that the questions asked each could not be 
heard by the other; and thus they could be en- 
trapped in their speech, and a seemingly fair accu- 
sation could be made against them. 

Castrocaro had his castle at La Torre. Notwith- 
standing the leader made use of the Governor’s 
name, the youths did not imagine that they were to 
stand before him ; doubtless, it was simply a band 
of marauders, with no other intent than to waylay 
travelers in the hope of ransom. It was a sore 
trial; but they walked on, still clinging to the 
thought that God knew, and that he could and 
would deliver them, if it was according to his will. 

Coming, in the course of the day, to a hamlet 
composed of a few isolated dwellings, the leader of 
the troop demanded to be supplied with meat and 
drink. The inhabitants, despoiling themselves, 
brought the best they had, and served the soldiers 
in a close court-yard. This inclosure was bounded 
on one side by the dwelling house, and on the op- 
posite side by a shed ; while on the other sides were 
walls, in which the entrance gates opened one over 
against the other. Having gorged themselves, the 
soldiers closed the gates, seized upon the men, bound 


250 


VILLANOVA-SOLAKO. 


them one to another, and prepared to carry them 
away prisoners. 

The women, seeing, themselves hopeless, set fire to 
the shed, and threatened the authors of all the 
violence that they would burn them alive, with 
their victims, if they refused to let them go. The 
soldiers hesitated, and then opened the gates and 
escaped, dragging their prisoners with them. 

At night they camped in a solitary place. Ex- 
hausted, the soldiers slept soundly; not so the 
prisoners. Under the semblance of sleep, the two 
youths crept softly together, and after a whispered 
consultation, decided upon cutting the ropes that 
held the prisoners, and make their escape. It was 
a bold movement. If they failed, it would be 
instant death. Commending themselves to God, 
they crept cautiously to the first prisoner, and cut 
his bonds ; then to the second, and so on to the end. 
The men, feeling themselves free, were still cautious. 
A drunken soldier turned in his sleep, and cried 
out. Not a movement was made, and again the 
soldier was asleep, and breathing heavily. Real- 
izing that the time was come, the prisoners, with 
stealthy movement, gained their feet. The night 
was dark ; not a star to show them the way ; neither 
a ray of light to give the enemy, who were now 




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VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


251 


apprised of what was going on, any indication of 
the direction they had taken. Rushing out, and 
just wakened from a heavy sleep, many of them 
lost their foot-hold, and fell into the deep recesses 
of the mountain paths ; and others, mistaking their 
own number for the fugitives, struck each other 
down, leaving a bloody spectacle for the morning 
sun to look upon. 

The two youths, from ignorance of the way, 
could not keep up with the men, who at once made 
for the hamlet. In all probability they would have 
died from exposure, had not the women, out of 
gratitude, instituted a search for them. 

“ God be praised, that we have found you ! ” ex- 
claimed the foremost. “ It was God who gave you 
courage to liberate the prisoners, and we have our 
own again ; and it was God w’ho directed us here ; 
and now you must have the best ’’ — giving them to 
eat, and at last taking them home to the hamlet. 

Treating them as their deliverers, and making 
them as comfortable as their poor means would 
allow, they questioned what further they could do 
to serve them. 

“We were on our way to Turin, with a message 
for the Duke of Savoy,” was the answer. “We 
are now turned from our course, and the paths are 


252 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


unknown to us. If you could direct us to the 
surest and shortest route, it would oblige us,” said 
Claude, politely. 

“That will we do!” came warmly. “You shall 
have a guide over the most difficult passes. But 
you need rest ; to-morrow will be better than to-day 
for such a purpose.” 

That night the inhabitants of the hamlet met 
together for a public acknowledgment of God’s 
favor in their behalf ; calling upon him to 
strengthen their wavering faith, and by this new 
exhibition of his protecting care, incline them still 
more firmly to adhere to his precepts, and to trust 
him, with the loyalty of those who, having enlisted, 
are resolved never to falter in their devotion to the 
Master. 

The following morning the guide announced his 
readiness to depart, and the young men once more 
set out for Turin. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

THE DUCHESS OF SAVOY. 

rriHE summer residence of the Duchess of Savoy 
was removed from the noise and commotion 
of the city. The palace of the Archbishop could 
hardly be seen through the forest of trees that stood 
upon that side of the summer residence. In the 
park, there were maple trees and elms, spreading 
their rich foliage by the side of pines and fir trees. 
On the level meadows stood single lofty oaks and 
chestnut trees, with their rich growth of foliage to 
their very tops. Shrubberies of various leaves and 
flowers presented a refreshing appearance. Artistic 
arrangement was evident in the whole design. 

The paths were well kept; the flowers exhaled 
sweetness; the birds sang; there were swans and 
curiously mottled ducks swimming on the lake, and 
birds of gay plumage standing idly on its banks ; in 
the centre of the lake a fountain threw up a column 
of water, which splashed down again in fleecy clouds 
of curling foam. 

A clear woodland stream, fringed with juni- 

253 


254 


VILLANOVA-SOLAHO. 


per and filiny willows, and with many a bridge 
thrown across it, went singing its way to the lake ; 
and, gliding through it, was seen again winding its 
way to the river, a glimpse of whose silvery sur- 
face flashed here and there through the shrubbery. 

Under the trees were placed chairs and tables. 
Ladies, handsomely dressed, were walking up and 
down the green terraces, or sitting on the balconies. 
It was a place of enjoyment. 

Not far from the castle, and where the eye could 
take in the beautiful landscape, two youths, distin- 
guished in face and flgure, but plainly clad, walked 
slowly arm in arm. Their talk was low and frag- 
mentary. Occasionally their heads were lifted, and 
their gaze seemed to go beyond the valley with its 
woods and fruit trees, to the pointed tops of the 
lofty mountain range in the distance. 

“ How difierent the life we have known ! ” said 
one. 

“We must not contrast our own lot with the life 
we see here,” returned the other, and apparently the 
elder. “Strange as it may seem to us that our 
family must be scattered, it was God’s purpose, and 
for some good to the church of which our father was 
an able defender.” 

“It is a comfort to know that God plans, and 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


255 


that our little lives work out his will. He leads us, 
and we are here ; we are to have an interview with 
the Duchess. In any event, we have done what we 
could,” was the reply. 

The lads walked leisurely; there was no irrita- 
tion, no feverish anxiety ; and this left them free to 
enjoy the beautiful world in which, for the time 
being, they had a part. 

A distinguished looking man was sitting under 
the trees, with a book in his hand ; but he was not 
reading. His dress was carefully arranged, and 
his gaze was fixed on the distant landscape. A 
lady, with a tall, fine figure, and dark eyes and 
hair, came out of an arbor, and bowed to the gen- 
tleman. Immediately he rose up, and passing under 
a gothic arch, entered the castle. He was the court 
physician, Huguet. 

With an easy grace, the lady approached the two 
young men. Her voice was tuned to sweetness, and 
her smile was full of encouragement. 

“The Duchess will be pleased to receive you,” 
she said, at the same time leading the way to a 
handsome room, luxuriously furnished. 

The Duchess bore evidence of being an invalid. 
She was robed in white, with a border of gold, and 
she was reclining upon a low couch covered with 


256 


VTLLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


blue satin, embroidered with golden lilies. The 
hangings were of the same, blue and gold. As the 
youths entered, she raised herself from her pillows, 
and extended both of her hands. The young lady 
at once withdrew. They were alone. 

“You have sulfered — it is easy to see that you 
have suffered,” said the Duchess, in a low voice. 

With becoming dignity, Claude, as the elder, 
gave a brief narration of the grievances that had 
brought them there ; the persecution of the people 
in the valleys, the suffering from unjust accusation, 
and the cruel manner in which so many were put 
to death. “ Others,” he said, “ seek the mountains, 
and perish from cold and hunger.” 

“ Does the Governor, De Castrocaro, know this ? ” 
asked the Duchess, in a compassionate voice. 

“It is by his command, your grace.” 

“ Is it possible ! He writes to tne differently ” — at 
the same time she passed her slender, white hand 
over her eyes, as if to shut out the dreadful picture. 

“Noble minds have difficulty in believing evil ; 
while the baser sort suspect it even when it does not 
exist,” said Claude. “ Castrocaro owes his life to 
one of our pastors. In return, he tortured him.” 

“How was this?” asked the Duchess, while a 
slight flush crept into her pallid cheeks. 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


257 


“Castrocaro was a colonel in the ducal army, and 
was made a prisoner. He called himself ‘ a gentle- 
man of the Duchess of Savoy.’ The pastor of La 
Torre, Gilles des Gilles, had him set at liberty; 
and afterward, when he had the power, he caused 
the son of that same pastor to be arrested, on the 
pretext that he had been at Grenoble and at Geneva, 
with the view of bringing troops from other coun- 
tries against his sovereign.” 

“Yes; the Duke was given to understand this,” 
said the Duchess, once more sinking back against 
the pillows. 

“ It is possible, your grace did not know that this 
young man was transported to Turin, to the Jesuit 
convent, and thence he was despatched to India, 
whence no word of him ever came.” 

“No; I did not know this,” again rising to a 
sitting posture, and looking with truthful eyes into 
the young man’s face. 

“We were sure of this. We were sure that 
neither your grace nor your noble husband under- 
stood a tithe of the injustice meted out to these 
poor people by those whom your goodness has 
placed in authority over them. This feeling upon 
our part, and the distinguished regard we were 

taught from our cradle to cherish for your grace, 
R 


258 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


nerved us with energy to make the journey, and 
courage to present ourselves before you. Pardon, 
if we have fatigued you ; we feel that you are suf- 
fering. And, with your permission, we will take 
our leave.” 

“ I cannot spare you yet ” — while a smile flitted 
across the worn features. “In listening to your 
voice, I seem to recall looks and tones long since 
passed away. You must tell me more of yourselves, 
and the hopes you have of the future. I must rest 
now. I will see you again this evening,” was said, 
wearily. 

The Duchess touched a jeweled bell, and the 
same graceful lady entered. 

“ These young gentlemen are my especial guests. 
Entertain them, as I would do, did I have the 
strength,” was said, with an air of motherly kind- 
ness. 

As they made their adieus, the court physician, 
Huguet, approached the sofa and took the hand of 
the Duchess in his own. His face was marked 
with anxiety. 

“ Is the Duchess so very ill ? ” Louis ventured to 
ask, as they left the apartment. 

“The Duchess is really very ill. We have grave 
fears for her,” answered their guide. 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


259 


“God grant that she may long live,” gasped 
Louis. “ She is an angel to whom the poor people 
look, under God, for deliverance.” 

The court lady led them through carved arches 
and magnificent galleries to a remote wing of the 
summer residence. Here a table was spread for 
a small company. The court lady poured cofiee 
for them, all the while conversing in an easy, grace- 
ful manner, that led them to forget that they were 
strangers. At length she touched upon the valleys 
and the pastors, one of whom, Scipio Lentulus, she 
had seen. 

“Do you know him?” she asked. 

“We have seen him,” was the reply. 

“A learned man, and as good as he was learned, 
I was told.” 

“ He shared with the poor people. By act of the 
Governor, Castrocaro, he was sent to Chiavenna. 
True, the Duchess had the goodness to rescind the 
order. If he returned we do not know it,” was 
the answer. 

After luncheon, they stepped into a boat, and 
rowed out to an island in the lake, upon which 
stood a gothic temple with open porches. 

“We have prayers here when the Duchess is 
able to go out,” said the court lady. 


260 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


Other boats passed them, the occupants bowing 
and smiling. There was nothing at all sombre ; but 
everything was tuned to a serene cheerfulness. 
Points of interest followed in rapid succession ; and 
the sun was bridging the lake and flooding the 
porches of the white chapel when the young men 
again stood in the presence of the Duchess. 

The audience was held in the grand saloon. The 
Duchess had exchanged her white robe for a 
crimson velvet gown. The sleeves were slashed, 
showing a white lining ; the front of the dress was 
embroidered with pearls, and the wide ruff* at the 
neck gave her a stately appearance. Her hair was 
dressed high with a net work of pearls. Her 
cheeks were flushed, and she looked less the invalid 
than she had done in the morning. Her manner 
was candid, and still she appeared anxious to listen, 
rather than herself to converse. The discourse, for 
the most part, consisted in the history of the house 
of Solaro, the confiscation of their property, the 
separation of the brothers, and the death of the 
Count. 

“I am aware of it,” gasped the Duchess. “You 
will believe me when I say, that I did all that was 
in my power to change the decision. I have suf- 
fered. I still suflfer.” 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


261 


“Do not disquiet yourself, dear lady. We did 
not come here to speak of our calamities. God 
permitted it for some wise purpose. In his own 
time he will make it plain to us.” 

“ But I did what I could. Your mother 

with a beseeching tenderness in her eyes. 

“ We do not deny it, your grace. We are aware 
that it was your influence with your noble husband 
that led to the postponement of the decree. We 
have never wavered in our devotion. We are here 
because of that devotion.” 

“ It was Rome ; it is Rome now. The Duke 
is indignant; it keeps him in a fever of excitement. 
He has a noble heart, and he sympathizes with the 
people of the valleys; but there is a limit to his 
power.” 

There was no reply. The court physician had 
warned the young men against anything to cause 
excitement. After the Duchess had grown calm, 
she said, very tenderly : 

“What hopes have you for the future? Are 
you expected to return to the valleys?” 

“ Our mother shares the home of a peasant in 
the mountains. We have a younger brother, and 
our father left a sister. We are their protectors,” 
was answered, proudly. 


262 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


“Alas for Octavia ! What a life for the beautiful 
girl ! ” exclaimed the Duchess. 

“ She is a noble Christian woman. She leads the 
people in religious service, in the absence of the 
pastors,” was the reply. 

The audience was soon after at an end. The 
court lady entered. She was followed by the phy- 
sician. 

“ We must beg your grace to rest,” he said. 

“ I have been reminded of other days ; it has 
not hurt me.” Still holding her visitors by the 
hand, she added: 

“I thank you for the good opinion you have 
of me, and be pleased to convey my sincere regard 
to your mother and to Octavia. This, that you 
have said to me, I will take to my closet and spread 
before the altar. If it please God that I find 
favor, your coming will not be in vain. May his 
loving kindness be with you to the end.” 


CHAPTEK XXVI. 

ON THEIR WAT FROM TURIN. 



S from each sheaf of a great harvest a grain 


used to be taken to make up the heap which 
was intended for the altar, so do we but gather a 
grain here and there destined to a place in the 
group of Vaudois martyrs. 

The seigneurs of Solaro, with their estates confis- 
cated ; their women and children, like wild beasts, 
scouring the recesses of the hills, and the peaks of 
the mountains, for a habitation; and made to re- 
ceive, as we have seen, shelter and sustenance from 
the more hardy mountaineers — were only consid- 
ered lawful prey, to be tracked down by the paid 
hordes of Pignerol, or by the command of Castro- 
caro himself. Not being fortunate enough to 
possess themselves of the young sons of Count 
Solaro, as they journeyed over the mountains to 
Turin, they determined, if possible, to waylay them 
on their return. 

Accordingly, not a day passed without seizing 
upon some one of the Vaudois fugitives who ven- 


263 


264 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


tured from his concealment for the purpose of pro- 
viding food for his children ; or one courageous 
enough to voluntarily carry comfort and cheer to 
the sick and solitary in caverns. 

With hearts full of thanksgiving for the favor- 
able reception they had met with in Turin, the 
youthful travelers, Claude and Louis Solaro, began 
their journey homeward, under the safe conduct of 
the Duchess of Savoy. When the guide reached 
the pass where he was to leave the young men and 
return to Turin, he said : 

“I will not leave you. I will go with you to 
these Vaudois valleys, which have preceded our 
blessed Reformation in the way of salvation.” 

“ The Vaudois have never yet reformed ; they 
are still primitive Christians, witnesses of the apos- 
tolic church,” answered Claude. 

“You increase my impatience to see them. I 
am resolved to go with you,” said the guide. 

“We have no home to take you to,” ventured 
Louis. “Our estates were confiscated, and for 
months our home has been on the ledge of the 
rocks, and even this is ours only through the kind- 
ness of a peasant in the mountains.” 

“ I am of your faith. I will go with you ; and I 
will not be burdensome to any,” was the reply. 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


265 


As they approached the hamlet of Boudrina, 
they received a mysterious warning, that they 
would need to be upon their guard. Making their 
way cautiously, therefore, along the narrow defiles, 
it soon became manifest that whoever gave them 
warning had been possessed of good information ; 
for in a gorge of the mountains they were descried 
by soldiers, who laid hands on them. Carried away 
as prisoners, the guide was lodged in one place and 
the two young men in another. In the silence 
of the night the gleam of what appeared to be a 
star awoke the brothei-s from an uneasy sleep ; and 
presently, without noise, a woman entered the room 
with a covered lamp in her hand. Approaching 
the pallet on which they were lying, she whispered, 
softly : 

“ I know who you are, and I am here to release 
you. Rise without noise and follow me.” 

There was command in her look and tone. Still 
they hesitated. Throwing back the heavy cloth 
that concealed her features, she gazed into the faces 
of the youths. 

“Ursula! Is it possible?” said Louis, clasping 
the woman’s hand. 

“Not a word, or we are lost!” she whispered, 
freeing herself from his grasp. And once more con- 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


26 P> 

cealing the lamp under her mantle, she bade them 
follow her noiselessly. When they reached a place 
of safety, the woman was the first to speak. 

“If their men had been true, I could not have 
done it. As it was, Anthony went with them to 
show them over the dangerous passes ; but in reality 
to see that they ate and slept peacefully. We were 
expecting you, and we knew their purpose. Thank 
God it is done, and you are not in their hands.” 

“But will they not distrust Anthony?” Claude 
asked. “I would not have another suffer in my 
place.” 

“ Neither would I ! ” exclaimed Louis. 

“Anthony knows the mountains, and he has a 
good heart. I no longer live in the old place, and 
I am now thankful for it. We are broken up, and 
we feel it,” answered Ursula. 

The guide, Paul Gamier, was liberated also, and 
came up with them before they reached Boudrina. 

“ When they learned that you had slipped from 
their hands, they would have torn me to pieces, had 
I not shown them my commission, and demanded 
my release,” he said. 

“‘But you have no business here!’ they thun- 
dered. 

‘“I am in the service of the Duke of Savoy ; 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


267 


and I have a right to journey over the mountains 
and through the valleys as I please/” was the 
answer. 

“And they released you ? ” said Louis. 

“Yes, they released me; but not without due 
threatening. I am here, however.” 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE HEAD FOBESTEB. 

HILE Octavia Solaro lived under the shel- 



^ ' tering care of Andrew Monteil, she was ac- 
customed to climb to the scattered huts, realizing 
for herself the beauty and grandeur of mountain 
scenery, and giving to others the sunshine and the 
cheer of a heart full of faith, and with a burning 
zeal to do and to suffer all the will of the Lord. 

Upon one occasion, she came upon a chalet, the 
appearance of which was so vastly superior to the 
others she had seen, that she questioned the advisa- 
bility of going on. A belt of chestnut trees sur- 
rounded the hut. On the right, and sufficiently 
removed so that the rise of the water in spring time 
would not harm them, a brook went gliding down 
the mountain, twisting and curling, and again 
stretching its silvery length, its banks fringed with 
grass, thus giving the little plateau a sylvan beauty 
altogether charming. Hesitating and undecided as 
to her advance, she perceived, on the ledge well 
sheltered by the chestnuts, a young girl, idly 


268 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


269 


watching a woman as she spread a web of linen 
on the bank of the brook, and then scooped up 
the water in a gourd, and sprinkled it. 

“ To pay you for coming, you shall have a por- 
tion of it, Margot,” said the woman, smiling up to 
the young girl. 

“ Nay, nay ! Gabrielle, that will not be fair. I 
came purposely to be with you. I was not thinking 
of the linen.” 

“ But it will come in well. When a girl marries 
a man, she should have a supply of linen. It is 
what my mother said to me ; and I did have, and 
to spare,” rung out, merrily. 

A pretty flush suffused the young girl’s cheeks, 
and she turned her head in time to see Octavia. It 
was too late for the latter to run away. Gabrielle 
dropped her gourd, and good-naturedly stepped 
forward to receive her visitor. 

Octavia’s grace of manner did not desert her. 

“ I have never come in this direction. I had no 
idea of the chdlet and the brook until I w^as quite 
here,” she said, smilingly. 

“ The chdlet has been here, and so has the brook ; 
but we have not. Thomas, my husband, is head 
forester. The summer is good for bleaching, and I 
come for a few weeks. This is the way of it.” 


270 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


The woman was talking, and all the while ap- 
proaching the young girl on the ledge, whom she 
introduced as Marguerite Lauris, god-daughter of 
the old Count of Lucerna. 

“ Perhaps you are from Boudrina. Gabrielle 
took me yesterday to a point where I could see the 
hamlet. It made me dizzy to look up,” said the 
young girl, pleasantly. 

“ There are heights beyond. I have learned to 
love the mountains,” was Octavia’s reply. 

Gabrielle smoothed the linen, and scooped up 
water with her gourd. The sun filtered gold 
through the chestnut branches upon the heads of 
the young girls, who were chatting together as 
though they had known each other for years. 

“ Does it make you feel solitary to go among the 
mountains ? Do you feel alone, and hardly more 
than a speck in the universe ? ” Marguerite asked. 

“ A speck ; a mote ; and still a mote swallowed 
up in God. Is this the idea ? ” 

“ I am not sure that I have the right thought of 
God. I cannot comprehend him ; and still in the 
mountains I feel drawn to him ; there is a conscious 
feeling that his strength covers my weakness.” 

Octavia’s eyes filled with tears. Margot, as 
Gabrielle called the girl, reminded her of Blanche. 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


271 


The god-daughter of Count Charles of Lucerna — 
would it be safe to talk with her of God ? 

Gabrielle finished watering her linen ; then she 
came and seated herself beside the young girls, 
under the chestnut trees.' They were talking of 
God and the mountains. 

“A strange thing for young girls. What put 
that into their heads?” she asked herself. 

“ Octavia has a Bible. You know we were talk- 
ing of a Bible the other day; we wanted one,” 
Marguerite said, taking the hand of the woman. 

“ It is not always safe to have a Bible on the 
shelf. I used to know a good many pages by 
heart. And psalms — I could repeat a score; but 
I’ve forgotten. Strange, how one will forget!” 

“ You must have had a Bible to learn from. I 
never had a copy of my own. I heard the pastor 
Guerin one day. He spoke of things far away 
from us as being near; of hope, and trust, and 
comfort when we are in trouble; and of all this 
coming to us through Christ. It was only once. I 
have so wanted to know more.” 

The girl’s face was serious, and the dewy softness 
of her eyes told how deeply she was moved. 

Octavia’s prudence vanished. She opened her 
roll and read the simple story of the cross. 


272 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


“It is beautiful. I believe it. May I believe 
it?” asked Margot, her face brightening with en- 
thusiasm. 

“ It is for you to believe. This wonderful love 
you may take to yourself; and the comfort that 
comes from it may be yours, to any extent you 
choose,” Octavia replied. 

“ But are there not conditions ? ” ventured 
Margot. 

“ Only a willingness on your part to accept.” 

“ I have often wondered how it is. I begin to 
see a little how it is. But to suffer all for Christ. 
I wonder if I could love with such a love? I have 
often asked myself this question,” continued Margot 
with deep earnestness in her words. 

“ It has been so from the beginning ; the enemies 
of Jesus have in all times persecuted and put to 
death his followers,” returned Octavia. 

“ But if he loves them, why does he suffer it? ” — 
lifting her head and flashing her eyes. 

“ It is his will, and being his will, we must endure 
bravely,” was Octavia’s reply. 

Gabrielle sat watching a few goats who occa- 
sionally came too near the linen. She had heard 
everything, and now she said, freely: 

“ It is better than going to the priest. The priest 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


273 


is but a man. How can he forgive us ? And again, 
how can he pass sentence upon us ? To go to this 
Christ is a comfort ; and for one, I’m inclined to 
go, only ,” hesitating and dropping her eyes. 

“ Only what ? ” asked Octavia, with a gentleness 
of manner that forced the woman to speak her in- 
most thought. 

“ Only this : Could I stand up to it ? And if 
they accused me, and took me away from my 
Thomas, and threatened to break all my bones, as 
we so often hear of their doing, could I endure it ? ” 

“If you desire, I will leave the roll with you. 
Then you can read by yourself. You can think 
and reflect upon the consequences of such a step,” 
said Octavia. 

“That is a true saying. People need time to 
decide whom they will go with. It was a long 
time before I knew my own mind when the head 
forester asked me to be his wife; and I did not 
know then until a great sorrow came to me.” 

Gabrielle was one to take a sensible view of 
things. She had lived in the house of Count 
Charles, and she knew his hatred of the Vaudois, 
and that the “shirri” were under his control. It 
would be a difficult thing for Margot to become a 

Christian, and for herself it would not be easier, 

s 


274 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


“We shall be asked, and if we are asked 

sbe said, musingly. 

While this was passing in the mind of the 
woman, what looked to be an enormous bundle 
of fagots came walking up to the door of the hut. 

“ It is Peter Kevel. 'I'his is the way he brings our 
firewood,” said the woman, seeing the direction of 
Octavia’s eyes. 

“ I think I must go now,” said the latter. “ I 
shall be missed.” 

Gabrielle had not even conjectured who her 
visitor might be. It was evident, however, that she 
was a Vaudois, and that for the present her home 
was in Boudrina. It could not always have been. 

The sun was hanging like a great gold ball just 
above the horizon. Waves of color crimsoned the 
sides of the mountain and rolled away to the 
valley in fiashes of diamond light. 

“I will walk with you,” said Margot, as Octavia 
took her leave. 

The rare splendor of the setting sun made any 
form of words seem trivial. 

“ I am afraid to have you go further, the night 
is coming on. I know my way quite well now,” 
Octavia felt constrained to say, as they came within 
sight of Boudrina. 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 275 

“ May I see you again ? Will you tell me more 
of these things?” Margot asked. 

“ Do you sincerely desire it ? ” 

“ I do ; and there is no one to whom I can go. 
It was God who sent you to me. Promise that you 
will come again,” was said, pleadingly. 

“ If God permits,” was the reply. 

Octavia sprung along the cliff like a chamois, 
wondering in her heart why Andrew had never 
spoken to her of the head forester, and whether 
Susanna knew Gabrielle ; and how they would look 
upon the visit. She had never been as far away 
before ; and had she been observed by any one, she 
wondered if it would bring trouble to Andrew and 
his wife. 

Of course, these were serious questions ; after all, 
was it not providential ? • The Count’s god-daughter 
W’as anxious to understand the way of life through 
Christ ; and the wife of the head forester was ques- 
tioning the way. Both were women of more than 
ordinary intelligence ; and, if they became earnest 
Christians, what an amount of good they might do. 

The bundle of walking fagots rolled to the 
ground, leaving a man with very broad shoulders, 
and very short limbs, standing there. Lifting his 
shaggy head, and snapping his little black, bead- 


276 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


like eyes, lie drank in the fresh air and inhaled the 
dewy sweetness of the fresh young grass, as one to 
whom the air and sunshine was something to be 
thankful for. Taking a step forward, he looked 
after the young girls, walking away like two 
friends, and approaching Gabrielle, said in a low, 
confidential tone, 

As I’m alive, she’s one of ’em.” 

** One of them ! ” ejaculated the woman, stooping 
and smoothing one corner of the linen still lying on 
the bank. 

“One of the Vaudes that the soldiers takes.” 

“Hush, Peter, you are always thinking of sol- 
diers. When have you seen any ? ” was asked. 

“Not that I have seen any; but I know what 
they do.” 

The woman was still smoothing her linen, and 
did not make any reply. The woodman looked 
after the young girls, but could no longer see them ; 
and turning to his fagots, began to pile them in 
order, one above the other. Then he called up the 
goats, one after another, and gave them each a 
crust. It was milking time. 

Just a rim of gold was seen on the horizon, as 
Margot came along the path and crossed the 
brook on broad stepping-stones placed for that pur- 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


277 


pose. Higher up, she saw the hut, and Gabrielle’s 
web, like a white fleece, fresh from the washing. 
Gabrielle was still there. A spicy odor was in the 
breeze ; and a bird came out of the forest, struck a 
few notes, and disappeared. Margot stood on the 
last of the stepping-stones, the gold of the sunset 
caught in the darkness of her hair, and her eyes 
bright with the joy of a new resolve. Then she 
jumped to the bank, and, with a smile, held out 
her hand to Gabrielle. The latter left her linen, 
and gathered a few clean pebbles from the brook. 

“ My mother used to say,” she began, “ that it 
makes no difierence w'hat it is, but in a covenant, 
something must be given. We have made a cove- 
nant, have we not ? and the pebbles w^e will keep as 
a witness of this day.” 

Gabrielle’s face was serious. She did not even 
ask if this should be so. It was, upon her part, the 
seal to a compact that she had already made in 
her own mind ; and she did not doubt but it was 
the same with Margot. At the same time, the 
latter took two of the pebbles from the woman’s 
hand. 

“ A witness of this day,” she said, simply ; and 
clasping the woman’s hand, they w^ent into the 
chMet together. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

THE BE-BBADING OF AN OLD COMPACT. 

T he young sons of Count Solaro returned from 
Turin encouraged, and able to encourage 
others. The Duchess had been deceived with re- 
gard to the motives of Castrocaro. Exhausted with 
the cares of state, and subject to severe illness, it 
might take time; but there was hope. Patience 
was necessary, and patience was a hard lesson to 
preach, for the reason that the Governor, at this 
juncture, was completing the fortress of Miraboco. 

The people of Bobi, in particular, saw with dis- 
pleasure the erection of this fortress, because of the 
obstacle which it formed on the road to Quieras, 
the free passage of which was of consequence to 
their colayers, for the exchange or sale of their 
produce in Upper Dauphiny. 

Castrocaro, upon his part, avowed a particular 
aversion for the inhabitants of Bobi, and in the 
name of the priest of La Torre, he demanded that 
the place of worship, and the grounds attached to 
the residence of the pastor, should be given up to 
him. 


278 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


279 


The Vaudois refused, and he threatened that if 
this was not done, he would call out the soldiery 
and take it by force. 

“ Let them come ! ” was the reply. 

Bobi had suffered previously. The barber, Hum- 
bert Artus, had made himself odious to the monks 
by his offer to discuss with them the doctrines of 
the church in Greek, Latin, or Hebrew, as they 
might choose. They made answer that they would 
consider the subject, and this was the last of it. 

The new trouble found the brethren weaker in 
number, but no less resolute to protect their rights. 

Besides, there was a hope that royal power would 
not be wanting, and thus they met on a verdant 
hill covered with gigantic chestnuts, in order to 
make known the sad extremity to which they were 
reduced ; and there, after fervent prayers to God 
for his counsel and assistance, an enthusiastic reso- 
lution was adopted, that they should defend them- 
selves unto death. 

In view of all that they had suffered, and all that 
they might be called upon to suffer, the pastor was 
required to read the covenant made and acted upon 
years before, for the encouragement of those who, 
through manifold sorrows, might feel that further 
contest was useless. 


280 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


Standing on the summit of the chestnut-crowned 
hill, with his silvery locks uncovered to the breeze, 
and the paper held firmly in his hands, the pastor 
read, in a deep, sonorous voice : 

“ In the name of the Vaudois churches of the Alps, 
we here promise, with our hands upon the Bible, 
and in the presence of God, that all our valleys will 
courageously stand by one another in what relates to 
religion, without prejudice to the obedience due our 
lawful superiors. We promise to maintain the Bible 
entire, and without admixture, according to the 
usage of the Apostolic Church, steadfastly contin- 
uing in the holy religion, although it should be at 
the peril of our lives, in order that we may be able 
to leave it to our children intact and pure, as we 
have received it from our fathers. We promise aid 
and succor to our persecuted brethren, and not to 
regard individual interest, but the common cause ; 
and not to wait upon men, but upon God.” 

With one accord, the people fell upon their knees 
and thanked God that there were still enough left 
for defence ; while a few of the more irresolute could 
only think of the Treaty of Cavour, renewed as it 
had been through the Governor’s interference, and 
seeing nothing in the present but suflTering and final 
defeat. 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


281 


Andrew Monteil had been one of the delegates, 
and it was on his return that he discovered Ursula 
driven from her home and despoiled of her goods, 
thankful for the shelter of the hills, and feeling, as 
she expressed herself, that the time would soon come 
when she could say with the Apostle, “ I have fought 
a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept 
the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a 
crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the right- 
eous judge, shall give me at that day; and not to me 
only, but to all of them also that love his appearing.” 

Ursula had taken up her abode with a relation of 
her husband. It was here that she learned of the 
peril and probable destruction of Claude and Louis 
Solaro, on their return from Turin, and the service 
she was able to do them, as we have seen. 

Notwithstanding her sons returned to her, the 
failing strength of the Countess of Solaro did not 
revive. For weeks, she had only walked a few yards 
up and down before the door. The incidents con- 
nected with the journey, together with the account 
of the illness of the Duchess of Savoy, preyed heavily 
upon her mind. 

“ Our old friend is going from us,” she would 
say to Octavia, with tears running down her white 
cheeks. 


282 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


“ The Duchess is our friend. She will do what 
she can for us. But we have a Friend who is able 
and willing to do all things for us. Can you not 
rest here ? ” 

“ I do. But when I think of my husband, of our 
home, and now of my boys,” continued the Countess, 
breaking down and sobbing like a child. 

“ He knows it all, and he is pitiful. You know 
how tenderly you love your boys. Jesus loves you 
with a tenderer love than you give to your children. 
* Come unto me,’ he says ; ^ Best in me.’ Our vision 
is poor and weak ; we cannot comprehend, and so 
W’e must let him fold us in his loving arms, and 
rest. He is our Brother, as well as our King.” 

The good Susanna never seemed to think of the 
Countess as other than a guest. 

“ It is a blessing, and many a time I say it in the 
day. We are none of us above needing help,” the 
good woman said. “Often when the path is too 
steep for me, and my hands tire under the burden, 
there’s some one dropping the word that strengthens 
me, and helps me to go on. It was so in my 
mother’s time. She always said that the angels had 
no abiding place; but were always going out on 
errands of mercy and kindness.” 

“Your mother was a wise woman, and you are a 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


283 


wise woman. The little good that we can do is all 
that can be set to our credit,” Andrew would 
answer. 

“ That’s the way it is — and it must be,” said Su- 
sanna, who thoroughly enjoyed a little praise from 
Andrew. “ It’s the suffering that makes the help 
needful. For one, I’m glad that I’ve got a home 
and a shelter to give one that’s distressed. It’s 
bread that we’re sure to get back again.” 

“That’s a true word, Susanna. What we give 
in this way is like seed planted in good ground. It 
will come up ; the blossom and the fruit will be 
ours.” 

It was pleasant to hear these honest souls talk 
together in the evening. The Countess often had 
her chair brought into the kitchen for that purpose. 

“At first, it was a sacrifice,” she admitted to 
Octavia ; “ but now I find comfort and self-forget- 
fulness in intercourse with those around me. I 
should like not to sadden their existence ; but to 
brighten it. Receiving from them, I would give 
back in good measure. My vision is clearer on this 
point.” 

Blanche had learned to knit. 

“Xfiis, and the open fire on the hearth, afford 
me happy hours,” she said. “ In every house, there 


284 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


should be a hearth and an altar ; fire on the hearth 
gives bodily comfort, and a fire on the altar gives a 
glow to the soul that radiates outward. It is the 
beginning here of what some people call heaven.” 

Evrard had his duties; and every morning he 
brought Mina up to show her to his mother. 

“ She knows us all, and she talks with her eyes. 
I never used to think that goats could use their 
eyes in this way.” 

“We are learning new lessons, my boy,” said the 
Countess, putting her arms around him. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

TEE OLD STORY REPEATED. 

rriHE head forester had been very watchful, and 
had made a discovery. 

“ It is all over,” he said to his wife. “ The wood 
is growing every day, and it looks well, and I like 
to breathe the air up here ; but the word has gone 
out” — dropping his head into his open palms and 
breathing heavily. 

“How is it, Thomas, the word has gone out? 
Just as though the word is not always going out,” 
said Gabriel le. 

“ But not such a word ” — raising himself slowly. 
“ Speak out, man. I never could unravel — my 
mother could; but give me the plain knitting.” 

“ True, I’m a free man ; I can go, or stay, as I 
please. But the Count thinks we’d best leave it 
this year till things are settled a little more.” 

“ What things?” 

“You see the churches have got mixed up. 
There’s no telling how it will turn out.” 

“ That’s it. I was afraid ’twas something awful,” 

285 


286 


VTLLANOVA-SOLARO. 


answered Gabrielle, trying to check every appear- 
ance of emotion. 

“ The Count is a well meaning man, and he is 
not for putting people to death for their faith. But 
the power is not with him, and until it is with him, 
he must be silent and have the appearance of fall- 
ing in with the others. And, if he must, then we 
must, or we’ll be suspected. It’s bad business, and 
Margot being Count Charles’ god-daughter, won’t 
save her if once she’s suspected.” 

“Margot has never done a bad deed,” said 
Gabrielle, turning pale at the thought of any ill 
coming to her foster child. 

“You thought to keep it quiet, and you have 
kept it quiet. But yesterday there were some 
papers found with part of the Gospels written out, 
and I was asked if I knew the writing, and I could 
not say I did not. And then the meetings were 
talked over, and I was warned and all that.” 

“Well, to be sure! there have been meetings, and 
your wife has been, as well as Margot. And what 
right has anybody to say a word, I would like to 
know ? It’s all because they know nothing of the 
Book, and of the sayings that bring comfort to the 
people, and make them willing to dwell up here 
with the mountains all around them. 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


287 


“ Hush, Gabrielle ! One may think as he likes ; 
but he must not avow his faith.” 

“ I am not ashamed of it.” 

“ No. But if you would enjoy it, you must keep 
it to yourself.” 

“But, why should I keep it when I’m not 
ashamed of it ? ” 

“ You are a wise woman, Gabrielle. You know, 
if you are suspected, you will be accused, and 
Margot will be accused, and it will be with you, as 
it is with others — you will be torn from your home ; 
and all because of these Bible-readings.” 

“ I wish we had never come ; or that we were 
never to go away. It will never be again as it has 
been,” answered Gabrielle, no longer in a defiant 
mood. 

The forester began to walk up and down the 
green shelf on which the chalet stood. Crossing 
his arms upon his broad breast, his head fell forward, 
and he walked dejectedly. At length, he dropped 
his arras and raised his head grandly. 

“I am glad that it is mine to be forester and 
wood inspector. I know all the trees, and have my 
own thoughts ; but with men it is different. There 
is many a one to take my place, if they can find 
aught against me.” 


288 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


Gabrielle’s heart was touched; she had never 
seen him so deeply stirred. 

At this instant, the figure of a tall, slight girl, 
stood outlined against the blue sky, then dropped 
easily down the face of the rock and disappeared. 

“ Was it Margot? ” asked the forester. 

“ It was Margot.” 

“And she has gone to the Bible-meeting?” 

“ I think so.” 

“Alas! We have fallen upon evil times ; other 
eyes may have observed her. In any event, this 
must be the last time.” 

Peter Eevel was near ; he was always at no great 
distance from the head forester, and he was wise in 
his way. This time, however, he was leading a kid 
by a blue ribbon, and the ribbon was torn and the 
kid was bleeding. 

“ It is Margot’s kid ; and the ribbon she put on 
with her own hands,” stammered Peter, greatly 
excited. 

“ Poor thing ! It must have fallen from the rocks,” 
said Gabrielle. 

“ You are a wise woman ; but this time I cannot 
say as much,” interrupted Peter. “Look at her 
poor, bleeding side! and she never did them any 
harm. But for the ribbon, they would have driven 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


289 


her away. I caught it, aud I told them the kid be- 
longed to the head forester, and, if harm came to it, 
they would answer for it. ‘ To whom will you go ? ' 
they asked, jeeringly. ‘ W e have the governor at our 
back. Keep your kid ! there is plenty of game in 
the mountains.’ ” 

“ Ah ! my poor kid, she must bleat just for joy, 
when one of them turned and sent an arrow into her 
side. I could have killed the brute ! ” 

Leaving the head forester and his wife to question 
Peter Revel still further, we will follow Margot, as 
she makes her way from point to point of the rocks, 
and at length enters an aperture screened by vines, 
and leading into a large and comfortably lighted 
chamber, where several poorly clad and half starved 
men and women were seated, and quietly listening, 
as Octavia Solaro read to them from the Evangelists. 
Margot took her place by the side of Octavia. Since 
their first meeting in the forester’s chalet, the young 
girls had been close friends, and the Bible studies in 
the cavern had been of great profit to Margot. 

“ I have learned very much here,” she would say ; 
“very much of God and his love. How infinitely 
small the things that I used to think of first im- 
portance ! ‘ God so loved us,’ crowds out these petty 

ideas of human greatness and human grandeur.” 

T 


290 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


“ Whole nights he passed on the mountains,” said 
another. “ Here it was that he seemed nearer to the 
Father. He could talk with him face to face. I 
sometimes ask myself if it is not so with us. We 
are nearer to the Father ; there is nothing but God 
over, around, and beneath us. We are immersed in 
his glory.” 

Margot could sing, and songs of deliverance w^ere 
sung in the cavern; while precious truths gleamed 
with new beauty, and the cross held up before them 
inspired them with fresh zeal and an unquenchable 
faith. 

“It makes it easier for us,” said a white-haired 
man, who had been called to give up his possessions 
and flee to the mountains ; “ easier for us ; for now 
we know that we have a High Priest that can be 
touched with a feeling of our infirmities. The cruel 
spear entered his side, and the long spikes pierced his 
hands and his feet. He suffered as a man ; but he 
died as a God.” 

From such communing the people went forth one 
by one, with silent voices and muffled footsteps, 
leaving Octavia and Margot to come still closer 
together. Lifting the green veil that fell over the 
mouth of the cavern, the two girls stood gazing 
over the valley. 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


291 


“ When the head forester goes home, I am to go 
with him, and it can never be again just as it has 
been,’^ Margot said, as she looked into the face of 
her friend. “Do you remember, Octavia, when 
you told me the story of the ten talents ? ” 

“ I remember,” was said, sweetly. 

“ I have sought my own pleasure, without a 
thought of my responsibility. I must do something 
for Christ. I cannot be satisfied to stand before 
him without one sheaf that I have gathered.” 

“Love for Christ demands sacrifice,” whispered 
Octavia. 

“ Christ sacrificed himself. I love him. Love 
demands sacrifice, and a sacrifice made for love is 
robbed of its sting,” was the reply. 

White clouds floated like castles in the air ; vast 
ledges of rock went shelving down to the valley. 

“We cannot see the paths; but they are there,” 
said Octavia. “The way opens as we advance. 
Thus in life we move forward. We cannot see the 
path. God will lead us. It is but a step at a time.” 

The chalet could not be seen ; but they knew the 
place by the purple coil rising and spreading itself, 
and at length lost in the pure atmosphere. 

“It is the smoke signal,” exclaimed Margot. 
“ The head forester has come in.” 


CHAPTER XXX. 

PETER REVEU8 CHARGE. 

HEN the head forester left the chalet, he 



* ' called Peter Revel to him in a confidential 
"way, and told him that Castrocaro’s men were on 
the watch for fugitives. 

“ It is not so much zeal for religion as it is the 
hope of a reward. If you happen to know of any 
Vaudois who have been deprived of their estates, 
you will do them a service by keeping a keen look- 
out, and giving them warning in time,” was said. 

Peter’s eyes snapped. Whatever intelligence he 
might, or might not, have he always comprehended 
all that the head forester had to say. 

“ They have been so long in the wood together, 
that there is but the one thought between them,” 
Gabrielle said. 

In any event, Peter understood the precise fugi- 
tives Thomas was thinking about, and he answered 
stoutly : 

“ I am here, and I am to stay here. I know the 
wood, and I know an eagle’s nest when I see it.” 


292 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


293 


Gabrielle said it was a long speech for Peter to 
make ; but she liked it. After all, what did he 
know about an eagle’s nest? 

Margot gave him her kid, with the blue ribbon 
around its neck. It was not quite well of the 
wound, and it was very shy, and would not go a 
step from the fold. 

“ I will keep the blue ribbon, and I will hold to 
my own, if the Archbishop himself should come,” 
replied the little man. 

Gabrielle smiled. 

*‘He knows what to say, and he can say it. 
Who would have thought it of our Peter?” she 
said, softly, to her husband. 

Many of the families that had previously been 
driven from Boudrina returned ; but so poor and 
miserable, so utterly broken by wounds, that their 
condition seemed little better than that of the fugi- 
tives who had no other shelter than the caverns in 
the mountains. 

Andrew Monteil and the good Susanna welcomed 
them gladly ; and not only welcomed them, but 
spent entire days in patching up the huts that 
the soldiers had beaten down, and making them 
comfortable. 

“ It is right,” Andrew would say, when one of 


294 


VILLANOVA-SOIiAEO. 


the unfortunates expressed gratitude; “‘by love 
serve one another/ is the command.” 

Andrew was a brave man, and he had learned 
much of the Bible since he took the exiles into his 
house. 

“ It is like having a pastor in our own dwelling,” 
he would say to Susanna, as the latter went about 
repeating one of Octavia’s sayings. 

“That is a true word. And when the poor 
people get settled again, we will have worship, and 
there will be reading and singing and praising 
God,” was the reply. 

Andrew, too, was looking forward. He antici- 
pated the time when the hamlet would put on 
its old prosperous look, and the people would be 
able to cultivate their small fields, and lead their 
flocks to the sunny slopes in safety. 

Until this was done, however, Andrew MonteiFs 
house was open for such as could venture to come 
at night and sit in the darkness. It would not do 
to light a torch, and the beasts on which the sick 
and crippled were placed had their feet bandaged, 
so that the muffled tread in the mountain passes 
might not be heard. It was a coming together, 
with the expectation of meeting the Master. 

“ He does not say that he will give us an abund- 


yiLLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


295 


ance of this world’s goods,” said one who had been 
racked by his tormentors, and was still firm. “We 
are inheritors with him of poverty, suffering, and 
death. ‘For I will show him,’ was said in refer- 
ence to Paul, ‘ how great things he must suffer for 
my name’s sake.’ ” 

Peter Revel, the woodman, came ; not so much to 
listen as to speak a word with Octavia. Once he 
surprised her by asking after Claude and Louis 
Solaro. 

“Would it not he well for them to come to the 
head forester’s house? If questions should be 
asked, they could then say, that they had taken 
service. Would it not be safer?” 

Peter was proud to show that he had charge of 
the forest, in the head forester’s absence. He knew 
the wood and he knew good carving. 

“ The day will come when it will sell for a good 
price,” he said. 

The larches and pines were his delight, and if he 
found a flower, it was sure to pass into Octavia’s 
hand. 

“ It is God’s way of speaking,” he said. “ So he 
opens the windows of heaven and drops them, just 
to let us know that he’s thinking about us.” 

As the days passed, Claude and Louis grew 


296 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


thoughtful. The good Duchess would certainly 
interfere; they had her word; and still depreda- 
tions were going on. Peter had seen these young 
men, and he called them eagles. 

Under pretext of bringing wood for carving, the 
man came frequently to see the young men. He 
was anxious and disturbed, and often his words 
were unintelligible. 

“ I wish I could do things, and every time I see 
you it comes to me,’^ he would begin ; and then 
suddenly fly out to the wood and the carving, leav- 
ing Octavia to conjecture that it was the desire to 
carve objects accurately that troubled him. 

With the lads he went further. 

“I wish I could take you to Geneva; but I 
can’t,” he said one day. “ Do you think it would 
be possible for you to go ? ” he asked, glancing into 
their faces with his bright eyes. 

“Do you want to be rid of us?” said Louis, 
laughing. 

“ It’s not that ” — shaking his head wisely — “ but 
Geneva, I hear tell, is a safer place for them of the 
religion.” 

“Possibly it is, Peter. Yes, it is; but you are 
here to care for the wood when the head forester is 
away. And we have our mother and brother and 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


297 


Octavia,” returned Claude, catching the woodman’s 
thought and honoring him for it. 

“ I might have known as much, and I can’t say 
but I’d do it myself in your place; and now, if 
worst comes we’ll be together.” 

It gave the man delight to find that he was 
understood. He had tried to tell Octavia; better, 
to go straight to the lads, as he had done; they 
w’ere sensible young fellows. And now they were 
woodmen, and he was in some sense their protector. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE YOUNG WOOD INSPECTORS. 

P ETER was accustomed to be up with the first 
light. 

“ I know not how it is,” he said. “ Something 
calls me. Everywhere in the wood, there are voices 
calling one to another, and they call to me, and the 
thing is done ; and when I lie down at night, there 
is something more in the world than there was at 
daybreak.” 

“ I know of a shorter path to the wood, and I am 
to show you,” he said to Octavia one evening, as he 
brought some white, satin-like birch for carving. 
“ And now I shall be glad if you will teach me to 
carve a goat with twisted horns,” he added. 

“ We will work together, and you will soon do 
it,” was the reply. 

Peter had a knife, and he had known something 
of carving. 

“ That is the way I come by the knife,” he said. 
“ It was given me by a man who spent a day with 

the head forester. He carved his name on one of 
298 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


299 


the trees, and I tried to cut mine with a sharp stone. 
He gave me the knife. The name is there still ; I 
will show it to you some day.” 

The return of the families and the rebuilding of 
the hamlet, took much of Andrew’s time. Blanche 
and Evrard gave more of their time to the vintage. 
There were cordials to make for the sick people. 

“ And to have is to give, and to give calls for 
work,” Susanna said. 

Octavia had found another industry besides carv- 
ing. One of the women had managed to hide away 
some fine flax, and she had a wheel ; and she held 
the distaflT in her hand. One day, she allowed Oc- 
tavia to try, and now she had a skein of her own. 

“ The mother hung her skeins there, on the rafter,” 
Susanna said. “If you like, you shall have the 
same nail, and there it will hang ; and every one 
will see that a web will come in time. And the 
bleaching will be just the nicest thing.” 

Susanna had the happiness to anticipate ; where- 
ever she was she could be thinking of something 
still better beyond. This happy disposition was not 
hers by nature ; it was a gift. 

“ My mother has often said to me, that when I 
was in the cradle I cried not a little, and that things 
went wrong with me. I was one day crying, and 


300 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


my mother was at work and could not stop to 
pacify me, when all at once a blow was struck on 
the door, and a poor man entered and asked for 
bread. Now, the bread had all been eaten ; but 
there was something in his look that went straight 
to my mother’s heart, and she said to him that she 
would make some. She had the meal and the fire. 
And while it was baking, the man lifted me out of 
the cradle, and stilled my crying. Then he asked 
my mother what gift she would like best for the 
child ; and she said to him, that she would like me 
to be always sweet and good, and always to have 
something before me bright-like to help me on. 
And it was so ; and it’s been so. It was the bread 
given a stranger that brought the gift.” 

Octavia thanked Susanna for telling her such a 
beautiful story. She could not doubt that a bless- 
ing would always come in this way. 

“ Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the 
least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto 
me.” 

Peter widened the road, and then came to show 
Octavia how much nearer it was ; “ and quite as 
safe,” he added. Passing a hut that had once been 
occupied, he said : 

“It is just like lighting a fire, to rebuild the 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


301 


hamlet. The flame doesn’t flash up at once; but 
when it gets well to going, then it is seen. Let the 
people come in and begin to live again, and the 
priests will see it, and the Governor will hear of it, 
and it will be as it was, only worse.” 

Peter was in trouble, and Octavia questioned. 
The Duchess of Savoy was really ill. What if she 
had grown worse, and had given the business over 
to the Duke, and he, as usual, had been persuaded 
that interference was unnecessary, nay, positively 
hurtful ? 

The Countess could not sleep at night, and in the 
daytime she was more active than usual. Her sons 
were growing taller and older, and a line of brown 
hair was showing on Claude’s lip. There was a 
look of his father in the youth’s face, and it struck 
her to the heart as she gazed upon him, and con- 
jectured what there might be in store for him. 

To encourage their mother, the noble-hearted 
lads rehearsed all the incidents in their visit to the 
Duchess, describing her manner and dress, and all 
the small kindnesses they had received, dwelling 
long upon the early memories she brought up, 
and always ending by a firm reliance upon her 
word. 

** It requires time to examine into state afiairs ; 


302 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


we must wait.” And for the time the Countess was 
comforted. 

“We must wait,” was the echo. 

Margot’s goat was now well, and showed no sign 
of the savage stroke she had received. On the day 
that Claude and Louis went over to the head for- 
ester’s chalet, Peter brought the goat to Octavia. 
Only the blue ribbon he carried in his pocket, 
taking it out quite stealthily, and giving it into her 
hand. 

“ It was Margot’s wish that you should have the 
goat,” he said, “ and I have brought it. It is 
always well when one goes out of the house, for a 
present to be made the house that very day. And 
the goat is a present that will bring good, and good 
thoughts will follow it.” 

The Countess, leaning on Blanche’s arm, came 
out to see the blue ribbon fastened around the 
slender throat; and Evrard made a wreath of 
bright-colored leaves, and dropped it over the head, 
letting it rest on the plump shoulders. 

“ It is like a sacrifice,” Susanna said ; “ and 
where there is sacrifice there is love. Yes, indeed, 
the goat stands for a loving thought, and it will 
stand so.” 

Evrard led the goat away to where Mina was 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


303 


bleating, and the young men, Claude and Louis, 
walked away with Peter to the forester’s chalet. 

From that day there was a want felt in the hut, 
a reaching out after something that had slipped 
from their grasp. 

“ A strange thing, and it is so,” Susanna said to 
her husband. “ Here am I crying out for the sons 
of another woman. And I am as proud of them as 
I would be of my own.” 

The Countess talked of the time when her boys 
were babies, and she a happy mother. 

“And now you are over the road, and beyond. 
How much more the love of a man for his mother 
than the love of the helpless infant, sweet as that is ! ” 
said Susanna, with shining eyes. 

Blanche took occasion, when the Countess and 
Susanna were talking, to gather the children in the 
hamlet and teach them short Scriptural lessons suited 
to their understanding. The solitude of the moun- 
tains had taught Blanche lessons of patient sweet- 
ness. With her old props torn away, the tendrils of 
her love had taken root at the foot of the cross, and 
the blossoms of blended faith and trust twined about 
it in perennial beauty. 

Andrew could use a saw and a hammer as easily 
as a bird uses her wings. He was hewing wood and 


304 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


making a room that would be worthy of public ser- 
vice on the Lord’s Day. 

“Many’s the time I think what a man Andrew 
would be had he the chance of others ; but he’s 
always stood for himself, and he is brave. He will 
do what he thinks to be right, and for this I am 
proud of him,” Susanna said, as she examined the 
beams and the rafters. “Yes, and he’ll have good 
seats too.” 

Blanche came to the new building with a com- 
pany of children; their hands were filled with 
dainty Alpine flowers, faintly colored, but fragrant. 
With one accord, they emptied them into the lap 
of the Countess. 

“ I have a cup,” Susanna said. “ It was my moth- 
er’s. I will put the flowers in the cup ; they can 
stand on your table, and you will be thinking of the 
children, and the children will be thinking of you. 
It is a good thing to have the love of children.” 

Peter was careful that the young wood inspectors 
were not too tired for a walk at night. 

“ It is a beautiful thing to say, ‘ mother.’ I used 
to say ‘ mother,’ and I am glad to think that I never 
was unkind and deceiving in my ways. And now, 
could I only say ‘ mother,’ and feel her mild eyes 
upon me, just as she looked when I was a boy, and 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


305 


the touch of her hand on my forehead, it would be 
like new life in my veins. But, no, it is not for me 
to say ‘ mother.^ As long as you can, say ‘ mother ’ 
every day, and when the time comes that you can 
say it no longer, you will not be sorry that you said 
it. No man is ever sorry that he was good to his 
mother.” 

The moonlight nights were full of beauty. Busy 
as they were during the day, they still did not ven- 
ture a light at night. 

“ When a man works through the day, he needs 
sleep, and sleep is better with only the night and 
the stars,” Andrew said. 


CHAPTER XXXIL 


BRAVE defence OF THE PASS, 

"I^VRARD went out with the goats each day. 

The goat with the blue ribbon was the last to 
leave the fold. Mina always waited for Evrard to 
untie the ribbon ; this was done at the door of the 
hut, with the Countess looking at them. 

“ Mina knows you, mother,” said the young shep- 
herd, as he dropped on one knee, and flung his 
right arm around the neck of Margot’s goat. 
“You will keep the ribbon, mother, and to-night 
we will put it on again,” handing it up to her. 
Just look at her eyes; the expression is almost 
human. She understands; only her speech is not 
like ours,” continued the lad. 

Evrard was tall, but slight. He could not endure 
fatigue like his brothers. With humid eyes the 
mother gazed after him. 

“You must not be lonely to-day, mother, and 
to-night we will be together again,” rings out. 
Evrard has a heart to comfort his mother. 

Blanche is not far away. She is never far away 
306 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


307 


when Evrard leads the goats to the sunny openings. 
The Countess takes her arm, and together they 
walk along the path. Mina leads the small flock, 
and Evrard walks behind. He carries a stout 
staff*, and his eyes are swift to see danger. 

“ I suppose I should not feel so, but every time 
my boys leave me I ask myself, ‘ Will they come 
back to me?’ ” 

“ This is because you have sufl’ered,” said 
Blanche, pointing away to the breaking clouds. 

It was beautiful. A golden glow swept over the 
valley, and the mountain peaks w’ere bright and 
glistening. 

Susanna came out of the hut. 

“It is a good day,” she said. “It is always 
good when the mist rolls up, as if pushed gently, 
instead of being torn by the wind. A good day, 
and the chestnuts are ready to gather.” 

Susanna had her pans on the long bench, and 
she began to rub them vigorously. The Countess 
was still looking away to the mountains. Octavia 
had said in the morning, “ I must see the poor 
people to-day.” And she was gone. 

Susanna flnished her pans and hung them in the 
sun. The Countess remarked that they looked like 
60 many shields. 


308 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


A company of children came up the hard path 
that led to the hut door. 

I had quite forgotten it,” said Blanche, as she 
caught sight of their bright, upturned faces. “ I 
promised to go nutting with them.” 

The Countess asked if she would be gone long. 

“ The trees are quite near. We will return soon. 
But a basket. I must have a basket,” said Blanche, 
laughing. 

Susanna was in high spirits; she wished she 
could go ; but they could not all go. 

The hours of the day passed swiftly, very 
swiftly. 

“ It was morning, and now it is night, and the 
work is done,” Susanna said. 

The chestnut gatherers brought full baskets. The 
children insisted upon taking home only the half of 
what each had gathered. 

“ It is for the Countess. She could not go with 
us,” they said. 

The Countess came from her room and gave each 
of them her hand. Again they courtesied, and went 
down the path with their baskets in their hands. 
In a short time Andrew came in, thoroughly weary. 
Evrard and the goats had not yet come. It was 
something new for the lad to be out when Andrew 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


309 


came. The time for the evening meal came, and it 
was eaten in silence. A sudden gloom had fallen 
over the house. 

“One of the goats may have fallen over the 
rocks, and the child is unable to rescue it. I must 
go and see. I know the dangerous passes,” Octavia 
said. 

“ It is that brought me here,” said a voice out of 
the shed where the goats were wont to be folded. 
“ I am come to see if everything is straight.” 

It was Peter Revel. Andrew was already gone. 

“ Something more than usual,” said Susanna. 
Careful so to speak, that the Countess should not 
hear her. 

Claude and Louis were at the door, in close 
conversation with Octavia. 

“We have just heard,” they said, “that the 
Governor has sent men to arrest Andrew Monteil, 
as one who has given succor to the fugitives ; and 
not only this ; but he is rebuilding the hamlet, and 
dispersed families are returning, and he means to 
have a church and a pastor. He is a pestilent 
fellow, it is said.” 

“ It is so. The building has been begun, and for 
this good deed he is to be arrested. Does Andrew 
know anything of this ? ” asked Octavia, sending a 


310 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


furtive glance into the room where Susanna was 
hushing her babies to sleep. “He has already- 
gone to find Evrard. Both will be taken, I fear.” 

“We are to gather the men and make what de- 
fence we can, and may God protect us,” answered 
Claude. 

Peter was beside himself when he learned that 
the goats had not come in, and that Andrew was 
already gone out after them. 

“The soldiers, doubtless, have found them, and 
we have no time to lose,” he said to Claude. 

It was so ; the flock had been driven away, and 
Evrard was lying with a bullet through his heart 
when Andrew found him. The hamlet was soon 
astir. Before morning, doubtless, an attack would 
be made. Gathering the more defenceless into the 
strongest hut, men and women prepared for the 
onset. 

“We are in the hands of our enemies,” said An- 
drew Monteil, as he returned, bearing the cold, stiflT 
form of the lad in his arms. Falling upon his 
knees in the midst of the smitten crowd, he invoked 
divine strength with such fllial confidence, that each 
heart was strengthened, and each arm was energized. 

The soldiers, who had intended to surprise the 
hamlet in the night, were themselves surprised to 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


311 


find the handful of fugitives prepared to receive 
them. As the armed force was seen, by the light 
of the stars flashing across their spears, six deter- 
mined men posted themselves in a defile, where only 
two persons could pass abreast. There they held in 
check that long file of the enemy, who crowded up 
to the barrier in the vain hope of forcing an en- 
trance. 

Of these six Vaudois, the two foremost had their 
pieces always charged ; and being within easy range, 
killed each couple of soldiers who presented them- 
selves at the turning of the rock. The two Vaudois 
placed in the second rank, fired over the shoulders 
of the first, their comrades behind them reloading 
their pieces. The other Vaudois, mounted upon the 
higher ledges, in the depth of which the ranks of 
the enemy’s line were involved. Then, from the 
highest peaks, rough rocks were loosened, which 
broke through the line, destroying the men, making 
gaps in the ranks, and bursting like thunderbolts, 
spreading in multiplied fragments like grape shot, 
and rebounding, like splinters of bomb shells, be- 
tween the contracted walls of that path of death. 

Unable to advance, or to spread abroad ; unable 
even to fight, the troops retreated in disorder. It 
was a horrible situation to ascend a ravine in which 


312 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


huge rocks were rolling down with fearful noise 
and power of rapid destruction ; and thus the as- 
sailing party withdrew, shattered and mangled, and 
for the time powerless. 

It was a victory that was not to bring peace, how- 
ever. Fresh men were brought, and the attack was 
made from an opposite quarter. The Vaudois had 
only taken time to thank God for his support, and 
to implore him still to be with them, when the 
onset was made. Inflamed by opposition and 
urged on by their leader, they advanced with the 
battle cry : “ Death to the Vaudois ! ” 

The shock was terrific. The Vaudois in turn 
fell back, with their leader dangerously wounded. 
Claude and Louis Solaro covered the retreat. Peter 
Revel, with the devotion of one who spared not 
himself, led the women to a place of seeming 
security. Feeble as the Countess was, she could 
not keep up. Blanche was supporting her and 
urging her forward, when a soldier made an at- 
tempt to seize Blanche, and at the same discharg- 
ing his weapon, the contents passing through the 
temples of the Countess, killing her instantly. 
Seeing that she was in his power, Blanche sprung 
forward and flung herself from the precipice. 
Death was preferable to dishonor. 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


313 


By this time, the inhabitants of the surrounding 
districts, victims as well of the spoliations of the 
hostile army, came to the help of the brethren of 
Boudrina. Thus encouraged, the people again 
gathered, and the soldiers were put to flight, leaving 
their dead and dying to mark their retreat. 

It was a sad occasion, when the Vaudois gathered 
to return God thanks. Andrew Monteil was there ; 
but pale and gasping. 

“ Thank him, Claude,” was faintly whispered. 

Octavia bound up her torn and bleeding hands, 
and everywhere was seen aiding others. 

It was not a time to read God’s meaning in all 
this ; it was only for them to do, and to keep doing ; 
the issue was with him. It was a sad spectacle as 
they gathered up their dead. 

“ Dear mother ! It is a comfort to know that it 
was a quick death.” 

More bitter were the tears as Blanche’s broken 
body was borne tenderly in the arms of Peter 
Bevel. 

“ The suffering of that one moment, and the fear- 
ful leap ! ” stammered Claude. 

It was subsequently found that Castrocaro, irri- 
tated at the order he had received from the Duke 
of Savoy, had instigated the second attack upon 


314 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


Boudrina, for no other reason than that he had 
pronounced it rebellious, and asked particularly, 
that authority might be given him to destroy it 
utterly. A contrary orde^ had been issued, how- 
ever, according to the last expressed desire of the 
expiring Duchess, that the people be spared further 
outrage, and safe conduct be given the remaining 
members of Count Solaro’s family, in order that 
they might reach Geneva. 

The Governor, seeing that his power was at an 
end, determined to have it appear that he had not 
received the order. Furthermore, he proclaimed 
that a fresh army was coming to destroy the 
Vaudois. The Duke, softened by the grief he felt 
on the death of the Duchess, sent a commissioner to 
the spot, who reported that the Vaudois people were 
greatly wronged by their calumniators. 

The cruel Castrocaro,” he said, “ cares for 
nothing but to live in luxury in his castle at La 
Torre, where he has become fat and rich, leaving 
his garrison to commit all sort of excesses, and 
himself commanding them to do as they did at 
Boudrina. He keeps in his palace, a troop of dogs 
of prodigious size, and very fierce. His son 
Andrew is a dissolute fellow, and his three 
daughters go indiscriminately to mass, or to the 


VILLANOVA-SOLAEO. 


315 


preacliiug of the reformed ministers ; caring nothing 
for the one religion or the other ; but only to be 
extravagantly and gaudily dressed ; while his great 
object is to plunder all he can.” 

The Duke of Savoy, being informed of such 
conduct, resolved to put an end to these excesses. 
He summoned Castrocaro to Turin; but upon 
various pretexts the unworthy Governor refused to 
obey, giving still further proofs of his unworthiness 
by his resistance. The Duke, seeing well enough 
that if there were rebels at La Torre, it was not 
among the Vaudois, ordered the Count of Lucerna 
to seize Castrocaro, and make him prisoner. This 
was no easy matter. His desperation made him 
bold to defend himself as long as possible. 

Treachery came to the aid of tactics. A captain, 
upon a private agreement with the Count of 
Lucerna, sent away a part of the garrison. The 
Count had posted his men within a short distance of 
the castle. He came on impetuously, and surprised 
it almost without defence. The porter was killed 
at the moment when he was going to raise the 
drawbridge. Castrocaro and his son were in bed ; 
and only the huge dogs to defend them. The Gov- 
ernor’s three daughters mounted to the belfry of 
the castle and sounded the alarm. The people 


316 


VILLANOVA-SOLARO. 


heard; but they made no attempt to oppose the 
Count. Castrocaro was conducted to Turin, and 
died in prison. His son expiated his misconduct in 
the dungeons of the senate. All their goods were 
confiscated, with the reservation of a small allow- 
ance, which was secured to the daughters and their 
mother. 

The news of the death of the Duchess of Savoy, 
allied as it was with the clemency of the Duke, was 
followed by a day of prayer and fasting on the part 
of the Vaudois. In Boudrina, service was held in 
the new building. Andrew Monteil was brought in 
on a cot. Susanna held up his left hand, while he 
prayed for the Duke and the people. 

Peter Revel was there, with the head forester and 
Gabrielle. The latter was proud to say that she 
had stood up for the right, and so had Margot; and 
harm had not come to them. They were there to 
say good-bye to Octavia and the young men. 

“ It is a long journey to Geneva ; but the hand 
of God is in it,” Susanna said, with visible emotion. 

“ Geneva is the place for them,” stammered Peter. 
“ It’s what I’ve been wanting, and now it’s come to 
pass. Things come to pass when we wait for them.” 

Octavia’s good-bye was a prayer. Andrew asked 
to be raised to a sitting posture. 


VILLANOVA-SOLAKC . 


317 


“ Give me your hands,” he said to the weeping 
group. “ Come nearer ; let me look into your faces 
for the last time. You have taught me much. I 
am grateful. God grant we meet there ” — his voice 
faltered and was gone. 

“ In heaven we’ll all praise him,” said Susanna, 
catching the whispered words. 

A smile illumined the face of the wounded 
man. And this was the parting. 

The journey to Geneva was full of hardships. 
For months after they arrived there, Octavia hov- 
ered on the brink of the grave. But she recovered ; 
and we are told that it was still her meat and drink 
to do good. The young men, Claude and Louis, 
studied for the ministry, and afterward we hear of 
them as doing good work in the valleys. 

The Duke of Savoy did not long survive his 
wife. He died August 30, 1580. 


THE END, 




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